I remember her, my Mimi.  I remember the time I woke up and had to go to the bathroom on Christmas Eve and crept out of the room my brothers and I were sleeping in, only to find Santa’s Elves (a.k.a. my parents and grandparents) busily prepping for the next morning’s big event.  Before I could register what I was seeing, Mimi clamped her hand across my eyes and led me to the bathroom on the other side of the house.  So, Amanda, is there a Santa Claus?? I think I must’ve been 7 or 8.  My Mimi passed away from ovarian cancer when I was 9.  I wish that I had known her, as I know things and people now.  From the way my Mom describes her, I think we would’ve been close.  Faye was her name – and now the middle name of my first baby, Charlie. Her husband, my Grandad TJ, has officially been put on hospice.  He’s almost 90 and wants to remain in the comfort of his home.  And why not?  He’ll avoid the cold sadness of a nursing home and will be made comfortable during his last days.  I saw him today, took Charlie with me as I didn’t know if this would be the last time.  My parents had said he had declined even in the month or so since I’d seen him last, but I don’t think I was really prepared for how frail and fragile he looked.  I sat with him and put my hand on his leg, patted him while we talked and had to speak louder than usual as his hearing has become so poor.  He apologized for the “state of things” – a proud man – I’m sure he just hates having to give up so much control as his body and mind start to decline.  He faded in and out of conversation, nodding off every few minutes and then catching himself – eyes popping back open and straining to understand what we were saying.  I’m sure the constant soft chatter in the room was putting him to sleep.  When it was time to leave, I went to hug him and he felt like a pile of clothing, like there was nothing inside, an empty paper bag.  My breath caught and I could feel my eyes well up.  I made a quick exit because I knew I might crumble and I wasn’t sure what that would look like – I mean, does he even know that he’s dying?  The other night Vann and I were talking in our kitchen and he said to me, “Oh, this is the first time you’ve dealt with losing a grandparent as an adult.”  I realized he was right.  As much as I wish I remembered more about my Mimi, I just don’t.  I have to rely on stories my Mom tells and pictures, so many pictures of her red hair and retro glasses.  But my Grandad has just always been there.  The first time I got on a plane by myself as a kid it was to fly to Texas to stay with him.  There were always cans of Old Milwaukee in his fridge. I think he might have given me a sip of it once, which I’m sure nipped that in the bud real quick. He’s been there every Christmas, every college graduation, every wedding.  He was a tough man that mellowed with age, and in these last few years especially has never forgotten one of the girl’s birthdays – has always sent them a card and $25.  I would write in the thank you note that we were putting it away for a rainy day – I knew that he would appreciate that, the frugal man that he is. An avid follower of the stock market, he always asks Vann “how Pepsi is doing these days” and they’ll chat about the business world and what he’s investing in.  He loves a good glass of sweet red wine.  He turns 90 in January, and I’m not sure he’ll make it that far.  I wonder as he faces these last days if he’s thinking about my Mimi…if he’s getting excited to see her again.  And it dawns on me that I remember being the child whose parents were the adults saying goodbye to their grandparents.  And now, I’m the adult saying goodbye. But I know it’s not forever… 1 Corinthians 15:54-57 says: When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. As my sweet Grandad prepares to meet his Savior, I’m praising God for His victory over death.  O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.