Carolyn Maxine Walker Johnson

My gramma went home to be with Jesus this evening around 5:45 p.m. Her death was not sudden or unexpected. She has been living a sort of half-life for the past year and a half, and to be totally honest, I was relieved when I heard the news. My gramma was a feisty, independent, on-the-move lady who always had somewhere to be and someone to visit. Being confined primarily to her bed these last few months at the mercy of everyone else's schedule took her spirit away a lot sooner than her body was taken away. No way to spend one's last days, and yet as some wise person once said, it is a gift to experience our bodies failing us so we can genuinely embrace death as a blessing and crave it. I know my gramma craved death. She has missed my gramps since he died two and a half years ago much more than she anticipated, I think. And she has mourned the loss of her "able" life. I smile to think of her spirit reunited right now with her husband, her parents, her five older siblings, and dozens of her lifetime friends. And she's in the presence of Jesus. Not too bad for a September evening...

My gramma would quickly silence me with a "ppffttt" and a wave of her hand if I tried to wax poetic about how fantastic she was; she was one of the least boastful and self-centered people I've known. Fortunately for me, the reality of who she was and the kind of grandma she chose to be poses no need for over-exaggeration: every time I saw her, from my earliest memories until the last time I saw her with my husband and daughter 12 days ago, she made me feel like her world was richer, more beautiful, and more blessed because I was in it. Every time. What a priceless gift for a grand-daughter to receive from her grandma. That kind of love is permanently woven into the fabric of children's hearts and has a quietly profound impact on the way they view the world and, perhaps more importantly, themselves. Gramma (and Gramps) loved her grandchildren deliberately, generously, individually, joyfully. For me, my grandparents' love has always provided a beautifully human and tactile metaphor for how much our Heavenly Father loves us...

I miss you, Gramma. I've been missing you for months now, and my heart insists upon being sad even though I know you wouldn't want that. I am thrilled that you are Home, and I am genuinely comforted knowing that I will see you again someday. I love you...and I'll have the 49'ers at the Pancake House and a trip to Nordy's in honor of you this week :)