While sitting at the kitchen table after our Sunday visit to church, I was always offered cookies and juice. My favorite was the cherry lime lemonade, but grandma knew that. It was a lot of time talking about family, town gossip, and the weather while looking out the window at the bird feeder when the cardinals were feasting.

Sitting in the living room, grandma and grandpa each in their individual recliners, the rest of us surrounding them on the love seat and couch. Our toes buried in the cream carpet below. After a long “Minnesota goodbye” later, and a chocolate kiss from the candy jar, my family and I jumped in the car and watched as grandpa and grandma stood outside on their porch and waved goodbye to us until their house disappeared in the rearview mirror. This is how the majority of our visits continued for 18 years.

A similar routine for my grandparent’s on my mother’s side as well. Either sitting around the kitchen table, in the living room watching TV, or exploring the yard checking out the vegetable and flower gardens.

And soon, these routine visits I had been experiencing since I was born, took a turn of events. Aging is inevitable, as well as death. Watching the downfall of all four of my grandparents was difficult, to say the least, and during their downfall, I was not focused on the present— not for any of them. Watching them struggle to hold onto their last string of life was not the picture I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. So, I focus on the other memories.

Puzzles on the card table.
Oreos.
Candy mints.
Gardening.
Quilts.
Pictures.
Faith.

After each death, it took me awhile to accept the reality of how my life would change after these moments, especially after losing my final grandparent. It was difficult to know the world had lost so many accumulated years of wisdom, gone within a second. But then I think about how much the world has gained from them. So many lives had been touched by their existence on this planet— the amount of food distributed from the farms of both grandparents was unbelievable. Their prayers most likely touched many, and each set of grandparents created a very special person in my life. A ripple effect.

My grandparents are, however, more than their past. They have much to look forward to after life. Throughout the many years of knowing them, I have not witnessed their faith break once. God was the most important figure in their lives— the driving force for their days. And once they passed, it became easier for me to think about their death as a new beginning for them. It was a bright future, one without agitation, pain, oxygen tanks, or disease. A time when they could dance their nights away to polka music and reunite with old friends and family members that had passed so many years before them.

Acceptance of their death took time and effort. And I, along with my family and many others, will miss each of them immensely. We will always long for another day with them. For now, the memories will have to do— pictures, old photographs, stories. Hopefully, the memories will not fade with time or old age. We will surely cling to them until our last breath, until we finally have the opportunity to meet again.

And when my time arises, I hope they'll welcome me with open arms.