(definition further explained in this post if you still aren't satisfied)

Friday, January 29, 2010


Mimi passed away last night. Since March 1st of last year, she was in and out of the hospital, but it wasn't until two days ago that she was finally diagnosed. They said it was cancer. My brother and I knew nothing of treatments, of plans; we only knew that we finally had a name for the thing that gave her bad days sometimes, and at other times let her have good ones.

My mother, who was staying with her yesterday, told us that it was definitely a good day. She was sitting up, breathing fine, eating dinner. She wasn't gasping for air like she sometimes had to. The doctors said that her heart just...stopped. We're all very thankful that she went so peacefully, without pain.

Our family is beginning arrangements. If the snowstorm of the century doesn't blow through like the weathermen promised, we plan to have the funeral on Sunday.

2010 is turning out to be a year of deaths already. First a friend from church passed away in a car accident as a young man just out of his teen years, and now Mimi. The beautiful thing about it is, we know that both our grandmother and our friend have gone somewhere wonderful. We miss them already, and can't wait to see them again. Really, we'll just have to wait. Some of us more impatiently than others.

1 comment:

Mals86 said...

So sorry to hear about your grandmother. I know you'll miss her very much.

My own grandmother died three years ago, following a mini-stroke and a hospital stay that led to pneumonia. She was two weeks shy of her 92nd birthday. She lived with my parents all my life; I was 38 when she died. She was cantankerous, opinionated, touchy, nosy, creatively messy, easily upset, hospitable to the point of annoying ("Now that's not enough to feed a fly. You can't be full - you hand me that plate and I'll fill it up again."), most of it due to her bipolar disorder. Also, she rarely, unfairly, had anything good to say about my long-suffering father.

But she loved Jesus. And she loved her family. So I know that one day my Bambaw will come running down a golden street to welcome me, healed of all her disease. So will your Mimi be healed, and so will she welcome you.