The day before my Grandmother passed away I came to see her for the last time. The watch had gone on for days, frail and small she lay bravely waiting as death took its time. My memory of that day has blurred. I can’t seem to remember the details of how age and sickness had ravaged her physical body though I know they had. Instead, I remember her glowing as if her pale skin and white hair were infused by light. And out of that light I remember her striking blue eyes looking across the room and connecting with mine in an invisible current of love. In that moment, I knew two things: the Grandmother I knew in this world was saying goodbye to me for the final time and the love we shared between us would never die.
After she passed I was asked to come back to her house to help clean up and divide her belongings between us. In the spinning chaos of old magazines, china and dust I sat, numb in grief, among a dawning reality that none of “this” mattered. The physical pieces of my Grandmother’s tiny kingdom on earth, her little house full of blue crystal and hidden candy would be divided up and dispersed — dust to dust.
As I write this, with my Grandmother in Heaven and her ceramic quail watching over me from its shelf, I realize that “quail” is not her legacy but rather the unconditional and infinite love she shared that continues to reign in my memory , in my heart and goes out into the world through me — thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.