Life

Sometimes, I look at Emma in wonder and think,

There's a person in there. A whole person.

She's got her own personality, her own opinions, her own likes and dislikes. 

Of which she reminds us constantly.

She's a tiny individual. She's becoming. Every day, growing and learning and becoming more and more herself. More and more Emma.

There's another type of growing into oneself, though. The type that comes when the growing and the learning and the becoming shifts from this physical world to the next, to the spiritual world.

Yesterday was my grandma's birthday. My parents are in town to be with her and my grandpa. So naturally, Emma and I drove south with my dad to visit my grandma.

Emma didn't get to see her. 

Emma waited in the lobby of the hospital with my mom.

I went upstairs with my dad and my grandpa, where we said happy birthday to my grandma, where my grandpa brushed her still-thick hair, and where I held her hand while she stared vacantly in front of her, unable to lift her head even enough to meet our gaze. The fact that she was awake for the full hour we sat with her told us that she was likely aware that we were there, that she wanted to be with us.

This was not the woman I am used to.

The woman I am used to is the sweetest woman I have ever met. She is so full of love. She gives and she gives. She is soft-spoken and gentle, kind to everybody. She is firm in her beliefs and convictions. Everyone who meets her walks away knowing that her life is full of love. It is impossible not to love her.

I had to keep reminding myself as I looked at the body of my dear sweet grandma,

There's a person in there.

My grandmother had surgery ten years ago to replace a valve in her heart. She was told at the time that the valve would function for about ten years. So it was no surprise when she started to reexperience congestive heart failure early this year. She chose to have the same surgery, knowing that it might weaken her already weak body past the point of recovery, but also knowing that if she did not, she would become increasingly miserable until her heart simply gave out.

But really, she couldn't wait to get to heaven.

The surgery seemed to go well -- her heart was adapting. Then her body started to grow weaker. Her kidneys failed. Her lungs lost their ability to send oxygen to her brain, then to her extremities. She was put on a respirator. More things went wrong. Her physical body is deteriorating.

And to look at that physical body is heartbreaking.

There's still a person in there.

But the person that is in there is no longer growing towards a physical life. The person in there is growing toward heaven with every hour. 

As my grandmother becomes less and less the woman she has been on earth, she is leaning toward heaven, where she will still be Jean. She will finally be Jean without the weight of her failing body. 

She will be Jean as God imagined her.

Emma and her great-grandma, when Emma was 5 days old.