A little over a month ago, I had to say goodbye to my grandma. I'm okay now. It's hard, but life goes on. Some days are good and some days are bad, but there's so much to be thankful for as well. She's in a better place now, where she doesn't feel the crippling effects of her arthritis and where she can walk normally. She can sing as much as she wants. I am happy for her in that respect.

There was an amount of time where I was selfish. I wanted her here and I didn't understand why it had to happen now. We had just visited and she seemed like she was on the upswing. I had tennis preseason and junior year coming up. Now was no time for death. My heart was sad and in turmoil.

So my mom suggested that I write my grandma a letter. Grandma had always written letters back and forth with me. So why not write a letter?

I struggled with that.

Normally, as a writer, a letter would be easy, but what do you say in a situation like this? She wasn't here anymore, so I knew no matter what I would say, this letter would be for me, not her. She couldn't look down and see it. She couldn't respond. This would just be me.

What was the purpose of writing a letter if I was the only one who would see it? Who would care about it? Normally, I would write to her about my activities and send her pictures. I couldn't do that now...

But I woke up the morning of the funeral, and I wrote.

I started it in a normal fashion. I told her about how I was feeling. Different things that were upsetting me rolled easily off the pen and on to the paper. I told her some of my favorite memories. I told her how much I love her and want to be like her. And I cried a lot.

I told her all the things that I needed to say. I pretended just for a few minutes that this is a letter I would mail to her house. She would go through the mail and smile because there was an envelope addressed with my writing. I pretended that I would get a response from her. In her perfect handwriting. I cried even more.

I ran downstairs to my green typewriter and typed out the envelope. She was so excited when I told her that I wanted to be a writer and more so excited when I got my typewriter. Her father owned and edited the local newspaper when she was a girl, so it was something we connected on in a special way.

In the beginning, I imagined this to be a series of letters. I would write to her often. But I don't feel that now. Now, is up to me. I know the advice she would have given and what she would have wanted for me. I don't need something physical to confirm this.

My grandma is gone. That's the simple fact. I will see her in heaven, but I can no longer be sad. That wouldn't be fair to her. I think the next best thing I can do is to be the kind of person she would have wanted me to be.

She loved Jesus more than anything. And she would want that for me. She was ready to go to Him. It scares me that I'm not quite ready to go to Him yet.

Let me finish with this thought, more for me than for you all. Grandma's favorite hymn was Trust and Obey. And that's something I am working on. It's hard to know that God is calling you to do something you don't want to do. All too often that's the case. Just for a few days try to trust and obey whatever you think God is calling you to do. Then go longer.

She would want that from every one of you. Some days you may fail, and that's okay. He expects that you will at some point fail. Go with a repentant heart and try. The Bible calls us to repent and be baptized for the remission of our sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit. What better trust and obey is there than that?