Yesterday, the call came. The call I had feared for months, if not years. It was the kind of call that every child of a beloved grandparent dreads. My Memaw was leaving this Earth. My heart plummeted, and in a daze, I threw on the closest clothes I could find and rushed out the door. I could barely think.
My mind raced, my emotions a whirlwind of disbelief and grief. I drove as fast as I could, through every red light, past every stop sign, knowing deep down I might not make it in time. I needed to be there with her — to be there for her, as she had always been for me.
The road stretched on forever, each mile a reminder of how precious time is, how fleeting life can be. When I finally arrived at the hospital, my heart was pounding. I rushed through the doors, breathless and frantic, knowing I was too late. But then, there she was. The woman who had held me in her arms as a baby, the one who had taught me how to love, how to live, how to hold on through the hardest of times. And there I was, holding her hands one last time as she prepared to leave this world.
It was like the universe had paused for a moment, allowing me to say goodbye. But my heart shattered. There’s no other way to put it — a deep void was left in me, one that will never be filled. I am still trying to understand how life is supposed to continue without her, without the woman who had been a constant source of love and light in my life. The thought of facing a world without her seems impossible.
And yet, life keeps moving forward. And this morning, something beautiful happened, something unexpected that I will hold onto forever. As I lay in bed, exhausted from the emotional weight of the past few days, my son, Jetson Todd, noticed the pain I was carrying. He saw my broken heart and, without a second thought, went into the pantry. I watched as he ran, his little legs carrying him toward something he knew would help. When he returned, he was holding a plate in his hands — a “breakfast” he had prepared just for me. It was a simple meal, cookies and crackers, but to me, it was everything.
With such sweetness in his eyes, Jetson pointed out each item on the plate, proudly explaining what he had made. He kissed my cheek and said, “Here, Mom. This will make you feel better.” Tears filled my eyes as I held him close. In that moment, I realized that despite the overwhelming pain I was carrying, the love and care I had shown him through the years were now returned to me in the most beautiful way. His compassion and tenderness were the light I so desperately needed in that moment of darkness.
But it didn’t end there. As if he had sensed the heaviness in my soul, his brother, in his own way, reached out to comfort me. His words, simple yet profound, helped ease my aching heart. “Purdy is there to say hello to Memaw when she got to Heaven,” he said softly, his little hand resting gently on my arm. “So, she’s not alone.”
Those words, so innocent and pure, gave me peace. My mind wandered to the image of my Memaw being welcomed by Purdy, the dog who had been such a faithful companion to our family. For a brief moment, I could imagine Memaw surrounded by love, no longer alone, but in the company of those she had lost along the way. I imagined her smiling, at peace, finally free from the suffering she had endured. And in that moment, I felt my grief start to soften, just a little, as the weight of my loss was lightened by the compassion of my children.
I’m not sure what I did to deserve such grace — to have children who could so effortlessly show me love when I needed it most. But I am forever grateful for their kindness, their pure hearts, and their ability to offer the exact comfort I needed. My heart is broken, but it is not empty. I am filled with love, with gratitude, with the deep understanding that, even in the most painful moments, there are blessings to be found.
This experience has taught me so much about life, love, and loss. Grief is a powerful emotion, one that feels unbearable in the moment. But as I sit here today, reflecting on the beautiful legacy my Memaw has left me, I realize that the gift of grief is also the gift of love. The depth of my sorrow is a reflection of how deeply I loved her. And that love — that deep, unconditional love — is what my children have learned from me and are now giving back. In a time when I needed it most, they showed me what it truly means to love, to offer compassion, and to give comfort in the simplest ways.
So, I thank Jesus for the gift of grief, because it reminds me that love is never truly lost. It lives on in the hearts of those we leave behind. And in this case, it lives on in the way my children are learning to love — in the way they are learning to heal me with their small acts of kindness. My Memaw’s love will always be with me, and in the midst of my sadness, I see the light of her legacy in my children, in their kindness, in their hearts.
I might be the luckiest person in the entire world to have known the love of Edith Todd — a woman who gave me everything, who shaped the person I am today. And I am also the luckiest person in the world to know the love of my children, my beautiful boys who are teaching me, through their actions, that love is everlasting, that even in grief, there is healing.
Thank you, Memaw, for teaching me how to love. And thank you, Jetson and your brother, for reminding me that love can heal even the deepest of wounds. I will carry both of you in my heart forever.