She was usually grumpy. She never seemed very happy. We all said “hi” and talked to her but she was always just there, never seeming to enjoy herself. But maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t talk that much because she was just sitting back, watching her family. Maybe she loved us more than we will ever know.

My great grandma was 92. She had fallen years back and wasn’t expected to leave the hospital, but she did. Grandma McDaniel was what we called her. After recovering, she moved in with my grandma and my grandma took care of her withering mother. No one really considered it a good thing. She was a lot of work to take care of. From her old age, she couldn’t do a lot of things without help. Grandma McDaniel would find something wrong with any meal and was extremely picky. More than anything, she caused a lot of stress, work and time. However, months turned into years and she was still pushing through. Things got easier.

Evelyn McDaniel was a tough lady. Her first husband, my grandma’s dad, died when my grandma was 10. Evelyn remarried 3 times but all of her husbands passed long before she did. It wasn’t a surprise she didn’t always seem happy. Raising three daughters alone must have been really challenging but she did it. I always admired her and I wish I had taken the time to listen to her tell stories of her life. I wish I had realized how lucky I was to have her, how lucky we all were.

There are many memories I have with her. She loved puzzles and was very good at them but a day came when she couldn’t see well enough and had trouble handling the small piece in her clumsy, shriveled hands. Grandma McDaniel loves the game Rumi Cube and we played that with her often. She sometimes got frustrated by her inability to tell the blue from black tiles. Word searches were another thing she did often and I remember my mom buying them for her. She loved to write letters and send them to people as well as loved receiving them. Sitting by her desk she would look out the window, taking in the little things we often failed to notice. Something about getting older seems to make you cherish life a little more.

Lines creased my mom’s head as she hung up the phone. She explained that our great grandma was sent to a nursing home after she took a hard fall, breaking her hand. We visited when we could. We thought there was more time.

Not long after that, she had a stroke. We continued through life but she was always in the back of her mind. Anxious hearts thumped as we waited for news. She was not conscious but was alive. None of the doctors thought she would wake up. We all expected it. Ninety-two is a long life and we knew what was coming. Although sad, I didn’t think that much about it. Guilt washed over me, but the truth was it honestly didn’t truly upset me. Words like “I’m ready to go” and “I wanna be with Jesus” would come from her weary lips so we all thought it was her time. We were wrong.

She woke up and we visited her once more but she passed days later. Although upset, we weren’t surprised.

The Bean family loaded up as we drove to the funeral home. The family met a week before the funeral to talk and say good bye. I wasn’t expecting to cry or be very down. Gathering around the coffin, we stood in silence, looking at her pale empty face. My Grandma was the first to talk. She told us how she would wake up some nights to Grandma McDaniel talking. Worried, she would go to check on her. Sitting on her bed Evelyn would pray for each of her many grandkids, great grandkids and great-great grandkids. Name for name. One by one. I never imagined her doing something like that. She seemed a little insensitive and hard. I thought of all the times we had done little things together and how much it meant to her. I thought of how she would give us all presents for Christmas, just a little card with five dollars. I was selfish and greedy, saying thank you and hugging her but thinking what can I buy with five bucks but I now don’t know how she even managed that. We all loved her but I don’t think any of us realized how much she truly loved us. Although a lump grew in the back of my throat, looking down on the frail, peaceful face of my great grandma I kept it together. Then I looked over at my 25 year old cousin and watched as a few small tears slid down his face. Curious hands reached in the direction of her body as my baby brother tried to talk to her. Confused words of pure love, saying “Grandma” and “Bye Grandma”. He didn’t understand. He was just barely two. I lost it. I cried and so did my grandma… and mom…and aunt. My cheeks burned from slight embarrassment, I despise crying in public, but I couldn’t help it. However, even though our tears dripped from our skin, we felt joy. The content peace that radiated from her face assured us she was in a better place, is in a better place. This was my first real loss. I didn’t really realize until then, how precious life is. You never know who you will lose. Every moment with every person is precious and should be savored. Those moments can be taken away suddenly and then you will wish you had more. Time is precious and passes so quickly. I wish I had known that then, but I know now. Although people fade and pass on, memories, special memories with those people will last lifetimes.

She was usually grumpy. She never seemed super happy. We all said “hi” and talked to her but she was always just there, never seeming to enjoy herself, but she did. She didn’t talk that much because she was sitting back, enjoying the sight of her family. She loved us more than we will ever know.