They say the first year after losing a loved one is the hardest. I believe it. September 13, 2013, my entire family (husband, kids, parents, sister, brother-in-law, and grandparents) arrived in Orlando, Florida for what was supposed to be an incredible week-long vacation. God had other plans for our family, because that night, in the early morning of September 14, my grandmother let go of this life, and triumphantly grasped the hands of Jesus, who took her into the next.
The next few days were a blur. Because she was "unattended" at death, there had to be an autopsy. No definitive arrangements could be made, because A. we were in Florida, away from home, and B. her desire was to be buried in Arkansas, where she had been born and raised. We attempted to make the most of the rest of our vacation. We went to the beach and watched the magic of children, oblivious to the pain of death, laughing in the sand as they made castles and hopped the waves rolling in. We ate lobster and prime rib, and joked how it was cheaper without her, knowing she would have waved her finger and given us a stern look. We took my grandpa to Disney World, a magical kingdom he'd never been to, where my grandma's kisses were replaced by those of Minnie Mouse. We swam in the pool, the pool that made me choose the resort we had stayed at, because it had a zero-level entry that she could have easily gotten in and out of. We cried, we laughed, we told stories and jokes, wishing, aching, dreaming of how differently that vacation would have gone.
Suddenly, her body was released from the morgue. The distractions of Orlando were over, as we parted ways, some to Arkansas to plan the funeral, and some to Michigan to return home before traversing to Arkansas to meet up for the service. Her funeral was held on a beautiful day; it was about 75 degrees and sunny; she had to have been interceding on our behalf. She was laid to rest near her husband's family, in a cemetery used by many of our family members (including Noah Wesley Hampton, who our son Wesley was named after).
On the way to Arkansas for the funeral, I became consumed by the following lines. The grandchildren had all been asked to come up with something to remember her by. This was my contribution:
WILMA LEE
MY EARLIEST MEMORIES ARE FILLED WITH HER SPIRIT.
I NEVER IMAGINED MY LIFE WITHOUT HER IN IT.
BORN IN THE OZARK MOUNTAINS IN THE EARLY FORTIES,
SHE WAS THE THIRD OF FOUR CHILDREN BORN TO ED AND RUBY CONDREY.
OVERCOMING TRIALS AND HURT,
TO THREE CHILDREN SHE SOON GAVE BIRTH.
SHE LOVED THEM FIERCELY AND DEVOTED ALL SHE COULD
IN BOTH THE BAD TIMES AND THE GOOD.
SHE MARRIED DENNIS, MY PAPAW WHEN I WAS IN MY MOTHER'S WOMB.
I WATCHED THEM WEAVE THEIR MARRIAGE TOGETHER ON A GODLY LOOM.
ALTHOUGH NOT PERFECT, SHE TAUGHT ME SO MANY LESSONS.
AND BROUGHT TO MY LIFE SO MANY BLESSINGS.
AFTER RAISING HER OWN KIDS SHE HELPED WITH GRANDS AND GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN.
AND GRIEVED FOR THE ONES WHO PRECEDED HER TO HEAVEN.
I'LL MISS HER COLESLAW, CHOCOLATE GRAVY AND CORNBREAD;
HER SOFT ACCENT, SONGS SHE SANG, AND COMFORTING WORDS SHE SAID.
I LEARNED TO SING AND LOVE THE LORD,
BECAUSE SHE LIVED HER LIFE ABIDING BY HIS WORD.
HER FAITH IN GOOD WAS UNWAVERING; SHE KNEW JESUS WAS THE ONLY WAY.
SURROUNDED BY HER FAMILY THAT NIGHT, DOWN HER HEAD SHE LAY.
AS SHE SLIPPED AWAY FROM HER BROKEN BODY THAT WOULD NEVER MEND,
SHE GREETED THAT ANGEL BAND LIKE THEY WERE OLD FRIENDS.
TO ANYONE ELSE, SHE'D HAVE BEEN KNOWN BY GRANDMA, GRAM OR GRANNY,
BUT FOR US, WE SIMPLY CALLED HER "NANNIE".
