Mixed Emotions... Thanksgiving and Tears!

Its been a while since I blogged.

Not just blogging in general, I haven’t written much. Sometimes life happens and then you feel pinned down, enjoying it maybe? Or sometimes wallowing in circumstances, that you choose not to bring your head up long enough to just breathe.

It’s been a combination of both for me. Enjoying life, basking in it and in the midst of that, having this silly moments of staggering in a sad situation that should be translated to thanksgiving and rejoicing, because as bad as it is, it’s all good as well. 

I lost my grandma.

I wrote about her being ill here…. But she recovered from that.

She was well and strong, till she just dropped and moved on to eternity last month.

You see she was an old woman. A blessed woman that lived a long life. One thing I keep telling myself is how glad I am she didn’t live the earth helpless on a hospital bed, but she died so full of life. Mum saw her almost soon after she passed on and all I heard from mum and those who saw her was how she looked so beautiful, her skin glowing, a picture of peace. That’s just such a beautiful thought to behold.

I’m wallowing because sometimes, I enjoy being a child… a spoilt child. Thus I let myself act that way to my heavenly Father, because I know He loves me enough to indulge me… couldn’t she have lived a little bit longer Lord? I always pictured her at my wedding… I always pictured her there like she always is. As much as I knew this day would obviously come, I never imagined life without her. Oh Father, but I'm so thankful for the blessing of growing up with her, getting nourished and polished by her values and what she stood for. She saw not just her grand-kids, but great-grand kids as well. She lived a rich and satisfying life.

I boarded a plan for London that morning, not knowing that just as I was about taking off, grandma had taken her last breathe. We were both lifted from the earth same moment, me on an airplane, she on the wings of glory. I got the call when I landed, when I had just settled down at home and was enjoying the goodness of having my nieces around me. I was so calm when I was told… because I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. I thought I was strong… then I heard myself scream.

Death has no victory over us, but sometimes it just feels like it gave a hard blow that knocked you off your feet… and it takes a little time to rise up again and stand in the truth you know that, really, it has no victory. My grandma blazed out of life in victory into eternal life. She shut her eyes here, and opened them in heaven. When grandma was near death last year, she saw things. She spoke about beautiful houses she saw, beautiful houses she’s never seen in her life. We didn’t let her step into that beauty then, and God indulged us, gave us more time with her… and this time, we couldn’t stop her from stepping into that beauty, into His glory.  

My family is close knit, my grandma wasn’t just a figure that was there, there was a true relationship with her, our lives weren’t separate, and our lives were fully involved. As a child I would go to visit with mum and refuse to return home, mum would have to travel back home alone and send clothes to me. I enjoyed my grandma… a super woman, full of dignity, grace, love, kindness and peace even with her strong resolute self.

The meals she served us with were next to none. She was an exceptional cook… but what made her food beyond the ordinary was the love she prepared and served us with. Cooking for us was her love language. And she always made my favorite fried okro soup spiced with love and garnished with the biggest pieces of chicken (I suspect that’s why no one else can match up to hers)…

She was a great host, and I’ve watched the women in my family standing tall on her shoulders of excellence when it comes to hosting and entertaining, when it comes to showing kindness and giving.

Her heart and her home was always open to all: our friends and anyone who just happened to step into her home with us; the high and mighty, or the lowly and poor. I grew up seeing her compound always full especially at meal times, and everyone served food from the same pot her children ate from.

I took her to the hospital for her eye check up the last time she came over. I must confess I wasn’t too pleased with my mum for passing that responsibility to me, because mum was the one who did the appointments, but she and my aunts had to travel. I’m so glad I did. People kept admiring her that day; saying how beautiful she looked, how her skin glowed and saying how beautiful we both looked… I was such a proud granddaughter walking beside her that day. I didn’t know it was our last outing together, or the hug I gave her when I walked her to the car as she left for Otukpo was the last hug from her.

She loved the market, the attention she gave to detail in her shopping, be it for fish, oil or earrings, she was such an intense shopper, be it in the local market or in the malls in London, she showed herself… no doubt where her children get their shopping genes from.

She lived a good life and she has passed on to glory and now we are in the place where it’s our turn to live and carry the baton and torch of greatness, standing on the shoulder of the great giant that lived within her small frame, moving to even greater heights. 

We called her "Queen Queen" sometimes.  She was a real queen, from a royal family,  a child of a king on earth, how excited she'd be seeing herself as royalty in heaven as well.

I’m thankful for the life of such a woman of substance and grace.