This morning I lost my last grandparent. My Grandma Coats died this morning only a few months after the death of my grandpa. Four years ago I lost my paternal grandparents only three months apart from one another. To be without any grandparents is kind of breaking my heart.
My sister and I spent countless nights and weekends with our grandparents. What an amazing gift, right?! I truly cannot imagine my childhood without my Grandma Orpha’s sense of humor and love of songs, my Grandma Coats’potato soup and love of scary stories, my Grandpa Leroy’s stories and unending love for his grandkids, or my Grandpa Coats’ super wet kisses with a complimentary tush pat.
I didn’t spend near enough time with my grandma at the end. Thank the Lord for my cousins who were not only able, but made a point to spend so much time with her during her time in hospice care.
I’ll be honest, Grandma Coats and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. She once used some old euphemism about a fence swinging to describe my lack of cooperation or diplomacy with others. She once told me that if she ever became as crotchety as my great grandma that I was to smack her upside the head. I joked with my mother that one of the reasons I hadn’t visited recently was because I couldn’t bear the thought of hitting my grandmother.
I know my grandma is safe with our Lord. Her faith was strong. She (a Catholic) and my Grandpa Leroy (a Lutheran pastor) used to have long theological debates over cups of strong coffee. Neither ever actually “won” any of these debates. Thank you God for watching over ALL of my grandparents.
Peace and Blessings,
The Displaced City Girl