MollyMadonna.com

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don’t forget.

Today I came across a list I’d written a few weeks back–things I wanted to make sure to do and not forget in the busyness of the daily. On it, a line that read, “Call Gramma.” If I needed a reminder to live a life without regret, this moment was it. I stopped in my tracks for just a second, realizing how fresh things still feel and thinking how much I wish I could just pick up the phone. But the ache was fleeting, replaced immediately with gratitude for so many words and glances exchanged between Gramma and me in those last few weeks. No phone call would have done them justice.

I could have thrown the list away right then and there, I know. But I didn’t. I tucked it back into the pile. And maybe that’s a strange thing to do when I know I’ll find it again and be reminded once more, or maybe not. Right now, I’m savoring how recently we sat hand in hand, how relevant that note was only weeks ago, how beautiful a thing that I always wanted to “call Gramma.”

Two simple words stood out on an everyday page today and made me think. No regrets. I pray to always be so lucky with the people I love.

embracing intention,

mm

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her children rise up…

…and call her blessed. proverbs 31.28

Seven days ago, as I left Gramma Donna’s hospital room, I said goodbye to one of the most beautiful, influential people I’ve ever had the privilege to love. I knew as I walked away that night that I’d never see her sweet spirit again this side of Heaven. I had to go, but I hated to leave–to close the door on hours and days spent in that room with her, on so many “conversations” written on the white board over laughter and tears. A week earlier, Gramma had been placed in hospice care in the hospital, and our family had been given every indication that her days were few. I’m so thankful that nothing stopped me from packing up the car and making the drive with Henry back to Gramma’s “room with a view,” where we’d visited only days earlier. Then, Gramma and I had exchanged a beautiful conversation–one I will not soon forget and will always strive to remember…

From Monday until Sunday, Henry and I made our way to the hospital daily to be with “Gramma Gramma.” Not Great Grandma Donna (although she certainly was great), but “Gramma,” just the way she always spelled it, times two because it made Henry smile and I liked the ring to it. Whenever we gathered there, we did so in the company of all of Gramma’s children–my mom, aunts and uncle, their spouses, my cousins, and my dear sister, who flew in to be with Gramma, too. By Friday, Jason had joined us, and as the room swelled with people in and out, day by day, the memories and sorrow and grace and peace swelled there as well.

There are so many remarkable moments in the mix of our time together with Gramma that I know I’ll unpack for days to come. I am still processing so much and missing her so deeply…despite having 29+ years to celebrate with Gramma, the fact that our time together on earth is now over has me grappling in a way I’ve never felt before.

Gramma was a remarkable lady. An ideal role model for me and the definitive matriarch of our family. We are all far better off for being raised in her care, and now at a loss for losing her magnificent presence in our daily lives. Over time, I look forward to sharing the beauty that God crafted in our last days with Gramma. We are marked by her goodness–our family, a testament to who she was and all that she poured her life into.

Thank you for understanding the quiet that has characterized this space as of late. This experience has left me beyond having words to share. I hope to do it justice in some way as we move forward, but in the meantime, I’ll simply acknowledge how very blessed this has all been. God’s hand has been in every aspect, and we are all so thankful.

remembering,

mm

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love you forever.

Gramma Donna, 3 July 1930 - 26 February 2012

All of Heaven is celebrating tonight. Here on Earth, yours is a space no one else could ever fill. My heart aches more than I can say. You changed everything for good.

i’ll love you forever, i’ll like you for always, as long as i’m living, my grandma you’ll be…

molly madonna

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wordless.

For the first time in a long time, I’m struggling to put words to how I’m feeling–a strange and daunting turn for a girl like me, who clears and de-clutters my mind by putting pen to paper, fingers to keys. When the year began, I had committed to myself to blog once a day in 2012. I didn’t make the goal public, but the internal accountability was enough to keep me going. Until now.

There’s plenty swirling in my head, and I want to say all of it somehow–want to preserve memories from this week that I know will linger long after the days have gone. I’ve been hoping to preserve on a page all that I’m thinking and all that is happening, but it’s as if every single thought is bottle-necking because there are so many all at once…each leaving little room for any of the others to eek their way out, wild and free.

Nothing about this week feels wild and free. It feels personal, delicate, private. It handles like blown glass, beautiful and colorful at first glance, yet fragile, painstaking, malleable under fire and left to solidify at the hand of its maker. I feel as though I am passing it back and forth between my fingers, praying it won’t drop and knowing that at some point, I will have to let it go anyway. How do you let something so beautiful just go?

You don’t. And that’s why I’m out of sorts. Wordless in a sense, for someone who otherwise has so much to say. There isn’t an utterance to do it justice. Maybe someday there will be, but not for now.

My heart is heavy. In the midst of overwhelming graces, perfect moments, gratitude beyond measure, there is a very real and present awareness of what it happening, and you can’t put words to it while it takes shape. In a way, I think you just have to rest in it as best you can and swallow whole the minutes and hours and days as they present themselves–in tiny, beautiful packages prepared for us by a Creator who foreknew the number of hairs on our heads, the days on our calendars, our every breath. Sometimes, embracing each moment as such makes them possible to handle. It does for me.

doing my best to love with reckless abandon while i can, and searching out words in the process,

mm

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playtime.

Henry didn’t have any problem keeping himself busy this weekend while mom and dad tagged in and out every few hours to nap. The household was eerily subdued while we all battled a crummy cold. Always the bright spot in our lives no matter what, Hank took matters into his own hands and decided to have a toy party. Sheer brilliance!

I’m fairly certain someone had fun.

Of course, we have all of the grandparents and six Christmases to thank 😉

i love watching him come into his own!

h’s mama