Breakdown

I had one today. Here's what happened:

We (Chris and I) were gathering up a truckload of junk to take to the landfill. When the truck was almost full, Chris said to me "Why don't you go into the laundry room and bring all those cans out?" Seems simple, right? I thought so, too. I went inside to the laundry room, and there they were.

The cans.

Jars would actually be a better word. Mason jars. Lots of them, full of canned vegetables. But not just any mason jars. My grandma's. I miss her. This seems kind of silly, now. The minute I saw them, a big lump lodged itself in my throat. These jars have been in my home since before we moved in, over 4 years ago. I walk by them, stacked neatly on their shelves several times every day while doing the wash. Stacked where Mamaw left them after canning season when she still lived here. When she was still alive.

Nevermind that the dates on the lids of the jars were from 2003. Nevermind that Mamaw herself had told me several times to throw those things out years ago. It still hurt. When I reached for the first jar and saw the date on the lid - Aug 4 2003- in her sweet squiggley handwriting, I lost it.

2003. Shaun was only 3 years old. We didn't live here then, but Shaun stayed here with his Mamaw while I worked. She had a garden every year. Shaun "helped" her with it. She loved taking care of him, and he loved her. She taught him so much and loved him so much. She showed him Jesus' love. Just like she did for me when I stayed here while MY mom worked.

Something about seeing her handwriting got to me, and it hit me all over again that she's gone. My grandma. My friend. My prayer warrior. I started crying and couldn't stop. I haven't cried like that over her in a long time. 6 months, at least. I called my mom, who offered to come over and take care of the jars for me. I refused, thinking I'd get it together eventually. And I did.

I miss her. I want her back.

But.

I know she wouldn't come back to us for anything. She's in Heaven, where she belongs. Loving every minute. What comfort to know we'll be there together one day.

I pulled it together and finished the task.

But I kept one jar. Its still on its shelf. Just to remind me.