As our car hugged the roads on the side of the Allegheny Mountains for what was the last time, I thought back to how our other trips through this beautiful countryside led us to an anticipated destination..... Grandma's house!
We were as fond of her as if she lived three houses down from us, instead of the long twelve hour drive. The five of us, my siblings and I, had on many occasions made the trip in cramped vehicles made of metal and steel. The passing of time brought many changes, including the better fuel economy vehicles with a lot less horsepower, that somehow still got us up to the top of those peaks and safely down the other side. I looked out the window at these Pennsylvanian hills and the fall color that was already bursting forth. Colors we would not see back home for almost a month. This trip was different, one last time to see Grandma.
She would not be waiting up for us as she normally did, baking cookies into the night. Her warm kitchen a welcome place for us road-weary travelers. Our visits were not often, maybe every few years at most, but our hearts found rest and peace at Grandma's, a place of love and solace. We got to stay up late at Grandma's. I spent many a night watching hockey with Grandpa Frank, a die hard fan. We climbed the stairs for some shut-eye in the bedrooms she had set up for us guests. Sometimes, I would get the floor, if the whole family made the trip, which I wouldn't mind because I would be able to hear her first thing in the morning. Getting up to get the coffee on; calling out to Grandpa Frank in her thick Western New York accent. At least it was an accent to us Virginians. (The kids at the playground near her house would say that we were the ones with the accent.) My grandmother exuded love, and the memories of that love in action led me to tears on this particular trip, for it was a love that I would never again feel on this side of Heaven. I would miss her hugs and the warm way she loved us.
I did not know much about my grandmother, but I knew she was my Dad's Mom. A kind-hearted woman, at least to us. I don't know how she grew up, if she had both parents to live with or if the war left her empty-armed. All I knew was she loved me and I loved her. A simple love. A simple faith and belief in that love. I don't know if life treated her well or not. She never seemed bitter as far as I could tell. There were conversations had for the adults only and I'm sure there were things discussed that no child needed to hear or be in on anyway. I don't know at what point Jesus washed all of her sins away, or when she came up out of the waters, or if she read her Bible and when. Maybe it was a simple Faith, a simple belief and trust that He had done so. It's funny how we can love someone so much that we never fully knew, just because of who they are in relation to us.
We stopped in a town that was unfamiliar to us. We would say goodbye to her here as this was to be the final resting place. A little town in the hills, a little church in which to remember her life. Afterwards, we would travel once again to the home we all remembered her in the most. As we arrived it was strange to see unfamiliar people living in the home. {Grandpa Frank and Grandma had not lived there for a few years as I recall. I had suffered a shattered dream that I have projected was a shared shattered dream with Grandma. It was not long after this that her health went in to steady decline.} Some of her things were still up in the attic. As adults, we brought home with us the things that would help us remember her the most. The ceramic owl cookie jar, the owl kitchen utensil holder, the crazy man and woman made out of bottle caps. We each got an afghan that Grandma had crocheted. As we packed up and stood out on the front lawn, I remembered warm summer days that we played croquet there as the squirrels jumped about in the trees above us. I looked up the paved drive and remembered riding one of the antique bicycles that she had in the shed out back. I recalled riding that bike to the park and all over the streets of the subdivision.
My youngest brother and I made the drive up to Niagara Falls one last time. It was cold that night but the colored lights shining on the water were worth the drive. As the water spilled over the falls and the mist rose up we were dampened by it, matching the dampened spirits we had from the trip we had to make; to come this far one last time to see Grandma.
As I think back now, I remember Grandma's love for me as constant as that water flowing over the rocks at Niagara. The sheer volume of water that pours over the cliffs there is amazing. A steady and even flow, never slowed down and never stopping.
As I try to imagine her relationship with our shared Savior, I get the sense that this was it. This is what defined it. A constant and abiding peace and sense of deep Love that the Father had for her and has for me now. Unchanging and unwavering even through the highs and lows of life. Good choices and bad decisions. A never-ending, never-stopping, always and forever, faithful Love.
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