See you in heaven Grandma

My Grandma died last Sunday.  She was 93, was on no medication, had been sick for only a month, and wasn’t in much pain.  She was coherent and my uncle was with her holding her hand and talking to her.  Most of us would say, “That’s how I want to go.”  She had a full, exciting life.  In the month preceding her death and the days after, my family was together, laughing, crying, and remembering all the good times with Grams.  I think they were prepared.  I was not.  5,000 miles away in the jungle I broke down as I was hit by the reality that she is no longer on this earth.  I suddenly became again the little girl “playing” the piano while she danced, digging in the mud to find sand dollars and clams, learning the constellations on moonless nights, planting yellow roses.  I thought, “She’s gone and I will have no new memories of her.”I wanted my mom.  I wanted my family—to laugh and remember with my brothers and cousins all the childish things we did with her.  But I couldn’t have that so I tried to hide.  I wanted to be alone.  We offered Mass for her that day and after I stayed in the chapel and then hid behind the altar to be alone with Jesus.  I asked God “Why now?  Why now when for the first time in my life I am away from my family and can’t go back?  Why not last year?  Why not next year?”He didn’t answer me right away, as I prefer, but over the course of the week it came to me slowly: because then I wouldn’t have needed Him so much.  It’s true.  If I was home I would’ve stayed close to my family and wouldn’t have rushed to sit at His feet.  The pain might have seemed less severe, but the healing would have been slower.  The wound might have festered without the healing oil only God can provide.

I came out of my hiding place and my family in Christ was waiting for me.  Because many of them know what I was going through, many of them have been away for years and have sacrificed such moments too.  They sat with me, chatting, drinking tea.  They didn’t ask about her, they were simply present.  It was comforting, but I still felt that I wanted to talk about her.  Erica was gone for the weekend, so I didn’t have my dear “you understand me in English” friend.  But the next morning God provided.

Elizabeth and her husband François were visiting their godson, Renaud (French missionary here with his wife Marie Ines and son Josef).  They are a retired French couple and spent 2 weeks with us.  She speaks English very well and is one of the bubbliest people I have ever met.  After the first few days when she admitted that she couldn’t remember my name (Ninella) I told her she could call me Sunny.  Since she speaks English she understood the significance of the nickname.  She was absolutely thrilled to know that everyone calls me Sunny because all of her family calls her the French word for Sunshine (can't remember what it was, but you get the idea).  And so we became fast friends.Monday morning she came to my house to offer her condolences and gave me the best mom-style hug.  She wasn’t at mass the day before and so hadn’t heard the news about my Grandma.  At dinner that night she asked “What is wrong with Sunny?  Why is she not singing?”  And so someone told her.  She sat with me that morning asking me all about my Grandma.  I told her some of my favorite stories and then once she perceived that I didn’t want to talk anymore she started talking about her family.  It was a little thing, but a time of such unexpected joy.  God had sent me this darling French mother when I couldn’t be with my own. 

I went through the week doing my usual things, but with a heavy heart.  It started feeling like emptiness as the days went on, but here in this life given for Jesus a heart simply can’t stay empty long.  Thursday we celebrated Mary’s Immaculate Conception and the 19^th birthday of the Fazenda.  Even the bishop came!  You know it’s a party when the bishop is here!  Saturday morning I was making dessert for tudo o mundo (all the world) and I started singing.  I hadn’t really thought about the fact that I hadn’t sung all week except for during mass and prayer.  Teté (8-year-old Brazilian girl) was in the schoolhouse with Erica and said “Listen!  Your sister is singing again!”  I guess I wasn’t the only one feeling my sorrow.  Then I thought “you know what would really cheer me up?  A dinner party!”  So 8 of us sat down that night to a table full of good food and good friends and my heart is again full. 

There is no substitute for my family, for my friends back home, for my Grandma.  And there is also no substitute for my family and friends here.  The love of each person is so precious, so different, that I can’t imagine giving up one for another.  Thank God I have so many people to love and who love me.  Thank God for His love that makes all other love possible. My Grandma loved me and I loved her.  Now with her suffering on earth at an end I know I can say, see you in heaven Grandma. 

Love,

Sunny