Goodbyes are so hard

My Grandma Lock passed away a week ago yesterday. It's hard for me to write about this particular loss for some reason. Maybe it's because she never liked to be the center of attention. Maybe it's just because I'm not ready. Since I know I'll never be ready, I'll just give it a go.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I believe that it's hard to write about her because she was too essential to describe. It's like trying to describe the ocean just by talking about the waves. Or describing a quilt just by using color. I can't find the right way to describe what she meant to me because every time I try to pin it down, it slips away. Here are my best efforts.

Grandma was as constant as the stars. Always there with a cup of tea and an ear when you needed it. She was the best listener. It must have been the practice of living with an epic storyteller. She always seemed to know when you had a story to share and just how to draw it out.

I will miss her whimsy the most. When we were kids, she loved to tell us stories about the fairies and the sprites. All of her favorite recipes included a good story as their most important ingredient. With the practical, and sometimes hard, life that is farming, my grandparents - especially grandma - made sure to take time out to have light-hearted fun.

Service was her daily bread. I don't know that she went a day of her life, at least as long as I knew her, without doing at least one thing for someone who needed it. She was always thinking of others, trying to ease the burden of someone else. It's what did the most to ease her own.

The surface has been scratched. I hate saying goodbye. Sophia and I are baking up a storm and sharing it with our world. Grandma made the world a better place every day, and I'll try to do the same.