Last week my grandmother passed away.  I've been praying for her for a few years that Heavenly Father would take her home--I wasn't sure what life could mean to a person who couldn't hear, see, use the left side of her body, and was in constant pain.  I felt grateful that she could graduate from this mortal existence and greet her 2 husbands, 13 siblings, parents, and other family and friends who were probably waiting for her for such a long time.  I often wondered how grandma could stand to say good-bye to so many people.  For as long as I can remember grandma seemed to be losing friends and family to the cemetary she frequented.  I remember President Hinckley once saying that he felt like the last leaf on a tree and that the wind was blowing--I immediately thought of my grandmother.  This past week, though, I have to admit that I am going to miss her.  I've been trying to put my finger on what it was exactly that made grandma special to me. 

I have had one thought--when I was with my grandmother time stood still.  I don't know how she did it.  Every memory I have of being in her home at every age and stage in my life--when I went to grandma's house time stopped.  It was a bit like being in the temple.  Of course grandma had a clock and things to do but somehow she did everything she needed to do but never seemed rushed.  She had a way of turning ordinary events into adventures.  She would take us out to the dairy to get milk--I used to love that!  I was fascinated by the way the cows were milked and how we could just take our gallon jar to this big tank and fill it with milk.  I hated the milk--still do hate whole milk--but I loved going to the dairy with grandma.  I didn't even mind the smell.  Grandma would drive fast over the little hills, giving us that breathless feeling in our stomachs.  She would let us ride with the windows rolled down and let us put our arms out--sometimes it just feels good to feel the wind in your hair.  I remember when I was young she had a large garden and I can remember weeding and harvesting with her.  I hate gardening but I think I could like it if I could do it next to grandma.  I don't know why it was different with her, but I do know she was never demanding.  Somehow she could get me to work and make me feel good about every little thing I did without making me feel patronized.  I remember that she would often build a burn pile while working in the yard and when the work was finished we would have a "wienie roast".  I always thought it was funny that she called it that. 

Grandma was a child of the first Depression and life was always hard for her.  She was widowed twice, and made a living out of frugality.  She grew up one of the youngest children, where she would take care of animals, fields, and her ailing parents.  She nursed 3 people in their last years of life: her mother, and both husbands.  From her childhood, she worked and served, and worked some more.  This weekend the neighbors said that a couple of years ago, after her stroke, grandma could no longer stand or even sit to work on her lawn but she was accustomed to digging the crab grass out of her lawn and they caught her laying on the lawn to dig the crab grass out.  Nothing came easy for her--I believe that grandma put that kind of effort into everything and everybody she ever cared about.  I believe that given the choice about her circumstances that she wouldn't have changed anything, that she was grateful that her life was simple and that she had the opportunity to serve and love in ways that many of us never experience.  Truthfully, she made her life simple.  She knew her role and loved it.

Grandma made a career out of motherhood.  She loved family--they always came first in her life.  She was completely selfless and included all kinds of extended relations in her family.  She was the last daughter of her parents to pass away and she maintained contact established strong, loving relationships with all her nieces and nephews--there were soooo many--and they all loved their Aunt Pearl.  (As did their children and grandchildren.)  I believe that she was in some sense a mother to all of them, each in a different way.  Somehow she knew, or never forgot, what it was like to be a child.  She intuitively knew how children felt and how to make them feel important and loved.  I believe she counted anyone younger than her to be one of her children in a way.  Since she knew and loved children so well, I think she had a unique knowledge of their mothers.  As a young mother, there were times grandma would say just the thing to bring me comfort when I was worried about them and then there was my favorite quote, usually uttered when the kids were rowdy inside, or wanting to play with grandma's things: "Oh, just let them be kids!" And then she would grab the nearest one and give them a tight squeeze and a big kiss or two on the cheek. 

I admire and love her example of motherhood and I was grateful for one last weekend in her presence.  I think I want to evaluate and learn how I could make my own home more "timeless" and a place of refuge as hers was.  And when I think of grandma I will always want to hold my own a little closer and give them a big kiss on the cheek.

This past weekend was a wonderful exchange of memories and love--where time again seemed to stop in honor of grandma.