In 1 Corinthians 13, it says: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. 

Love is my grandma. She is everything love is described to be. If you asked me at any moment throughout my life, who in this world loves me the most, I would have, and will always answer, “Ma.”  It doesn’t even take a thought for me to confidently shout with assurance that no one on this earth loves me more. She didn’t just say she loved you, she showed it daily, and momentarily. It wasn’t just a warm and fuzzy feeling that you got when you walked in her door or hugged her goodbye, it was who she was all of the time. Her every breath. Her every move.

Love literally dripped off her as if she was so full of it, she couldn’t contain it. It brimmed over the edges of her heart and settled on anyone standing in her presence. Her love was impossible to ignore, even when you didn’t feel worthy or were ashamed of something you had said or done, she would love you into forgiving yourself without you even realizing what was happening.

I realize how incredibly fortunate I am to have known my beautiful grandmother for 35 years. She is an essential part of my life. I think it is extraordinary for a grandparent to be as devoted to her grandchildren as she was, but then, Ma was that exceptional kind of person every single day of her life.

She was truly an incredible matriarch.  Ma took care of everyone, starting with my grandpa.  Not only did she work to keep the front of the store (and the back) running smoothly, she worked to keep my grandpa running smoothly also.  He was a wonderful man and she was a wonderful wife.  She always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, or what he needed and had it ready before he even realized it himself.  Many summers in high school and throughout my early college years, I worked with them at Berry Drug.  Ma always went for lunch, or often went home and made lunch, and had it warm and ready when we were.  She did this daily for my grandpa.  They had a table in their store where we would sit and eat.  I remember thinking during those times, how fortunate I was to have those moments with them…together. Now, those memories are more precious than gold.  Their love for each other which so easily spilled over to their family. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever known.

Big Bill had such love for his beautiful wife.  Whether he was sending her a dozen red roses, asking her if she made enough money to pay the bills when she came home from playing bridge on Tuesdays, or singing Miss America when she walked in from the beauty shop, they had such a charming relationship and I cherish my memories of the way they were…together and with us.

Ma was also a wonderful mother.  I loved to hear her tell stories about how she cared for my dad and uncles when they were young. She would describe her memories with such detail and in such a loving way, that you felt as though you had lived it too.  I always loved when a story started with, “Your daddy…when your Uncle Bruce was little…or one time Timmy…” It was obvious how much she treasured being their mother and she loved to talk about her boys. They in turn, love her equally as much.

I often wonder, after raising 3 boys and now having two boys of my own who are even still very young, how Ma had any patience left by the time we grandkids came along. I often told her how much I admired the way she had raised her boys and us and how selfless she was about it.  She always told me, “Honey…it was and is my pleasure.  You don’t know how happy you all make me.”  And she never wavered.  In fact, I can say without a doubt that she is the most patient person I have ever known.  I don’t remember her ever raising her voice at me, or saying anything towards me out of frustration other than one time when I was 7.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  I climbed up on the counter to get a plate out of the cabinet.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but what’s a 7 year old to do?  Then, just as I grabbed the plate, I dropped it and it crashed to the ground and broke.  She walked back into the room and shouted, “Anne!  Get down off of that counter.”  At first, I was hurt that she had raised her voice at me, but it was that moment where I learned that a scared mother means business when it comes to the health and safety of the children she loves.  I started crying and she immediately sat me down and explained that she was scared that I was hurt and that was why she had reacted that way.  She explained this with the kindest and most gentle voice in the world and I knew that she meant it.  As a mother now myself, this memory means even more.  She taught me so many things about how to love and what a real mother looks and feels like. I only hope that I can be even a sliver of the mother to my boys that she has been to me.  If I could accomplish that, loving them even a fraction of how much she loved us, my boys would be the most loved boys in the world by far.

If you know Ma, you know that she never did anything half-way.  I dare say that she didn’t even do anything the “right” way.  She did everything the Ma way.  And the Ma way was always the best way.  Regardless of what she decided to do, it was done perfectly and with elegance and grace.  My grandma was such an elegant woman.  Not pretentious, not boastful, no, there is not an arrogant bone in her body.  She was naturally elegant in everything she did and it was beautiful.  She is beautiful.  Beautiful on the inside and out.  Like in being a wife, mother, and grandmother, she gave everything she did, everything she had. She was so strong and so self-less that anything her family needed, she worked her hardest to oblige.  She never let us down, and never even once let us feel unloved.  Love never fails…and she certainly never failed us.

You could hand me the longest book in the world with the writing deleted from the pages to leave them blank, and I could fill every page with a separate example of her patience, her kindness, her self-lessness, her gentleness…with her love.  And even with all of those pages, I would need another blank copy to even make a dent in sharing all of the wonderful things this amazing woman did, and that is just in my lifetime. I could literally go on and on, and I want to, but I won’t.

I will say this…I am so selfish.  I so badly wanted to keep her here with us longer.  I needed more time with her.  I wanted my kids to get to know her the way I did.  I wanted them to see and feel how much she loved them.  In their short time with her, they already have.  Aidan, my 6 year old, loved spending time with Ma, especially when I wasn’t there.  He felt a little extra special during those times and I am positive that she treated him like a king. And my 1 year old, Brody, literally ran to her as soon as I put him down inside her door way.  Then he would get up in the chair with her and she would treat him as if he were the most important person in the world.

I will always long for these moments. They are some of most cherished moments I will ever have.

I can’t tell you how empty part of my heart feels today.  I ache for her hug, to hear her sing to me, for her to listen to me talk about things on my mind or heart, to hear her talk about the things she was thinking about, to take her Christmas shopping and cook Thanksgiving dinner with her, just one more time.  I want to walk in her door and see her turn around in her chair and give me that look like I was the best thing that had happened to her all day.  That was the look she gave everyone in her family and we will all forever remember cherish that feeling.

A few weeks ago, on the way back from visiting her at Danville Hospital, the boys and I stopped by the cemetery to see Big Bill before we went home.  Aidan and I stood there talking about Big Bill and Aidan assured me in his very child-like yet very wise way that Big Bill wasn’t really there at the cemetery. He was in Heaven with Jesus.  Then he said to me, “Mom, I know that when Ma gets to Heaven, she is going to be so happy to see Big Bill and Jesus.” And I know he is right.  I am most certain that there was rejoicing in Heaven the moment she arrived, and I can see Big Bill beaming at her and her back at him.  I hope that when my time here is almost done, my children can say even a fraction of the things about me that I have shared with you about my grandmother, even being a sliver of who she is, is more love than most will share or receive in a lifetime. And I am positive that one dayAidan is going to look at his brother and say, “I know mom sure is going to be happy when she gets to Heaven and sees Big Bill, and Ma, and Jesus.”