Learning How To Lose

“Said a lot of words
Cried a lot of tears
Too many years
I’ve been running
Holding onto pride
Living out of fear
If I stay here
I’ll start crumbling
Nothing left to say and nothing left to prove
Hearts get rearranged but can’t escape the truth
A life of letting go is always hard to choose
‘Cause learning how to love is learning how to lose.”

–Shawn McDonald, Learning How To Lose

This week has been the most difficult week of my entire life. Last Saturday, January 20, 2018, at around 4:20 p.m., my Grandma Shirley passed away.

Three days later, Tuesday, January 23, 2018, at around 10:30 a.m., my Grandma Sally passed away.

Yesterday, Friday, January 26, 2018, was the hardest day of this week. I had to say goodbye to not one of these amazing women, but both. Grandma Shirley’s memorial service was at 10 a.m., Grandma Sally’s funeral was at 2 p.m.

I want to tell you all about these incredible women, because they deserve to be told about. I came from their lineage, and I want to reflect and tell you all about them.

Shirley Maye Pantle, August 29, 1935-January 20, 2018

Grandma Shirley was an incredible gardner, cook, and baker. Her chip-chocolate pie will always be famous in our house. She taught me how to sew, and was the most talented quilter I’ve ever seen. That takes patience. I’m thankful to have both a baby quilt and a full-size quilt that she made. Her house was always immaculate, she worked hard. She always looked good. She was one of the most talented people I’ve ever known, and will ever know. When I was in high school, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and it robbed us of her last years. She was always so sharp, and we all watched as she slowly lost who we were. She no longer cooked or quilted, no longer knew us. I am so glad that she is free from it. It’s almost like we had to lose her twice, but I am so thankful that she is in heaven with a new mind and body, that she is no longer suffering from this disease that stole her memory. I wish we could have had you these last years, and I hope and pray that one day there is a cure for Alzheimer’s, that more will not continue to endure the pain and loss that comes with it. Grandma Shirley: we have missed you for years now, but I am glad that you are now at peace. I will always remember your kindness, your laugh, and your smile. That you loved to teach us new things, that you were always so patient when doing so. That you loved us so much, and that you always had a smile on your face when we were there. I think of you every time I see roses, petunias, and every time I drive by any kind of quilt store. I’m thankful I can sleep wrapped in your love, that there was so much love poured out in what you made. We love you and miss you so much.

Sarah Ellen “Sally” Turnbull, November 17, 1927-January 23, 2018

Grandma Sally loved a lot of things. Garage sales, thrift stores, sweets, Gunsmoke, Judge Judy, but above all things she loved her family. She had nine kids–NINE. There were 16 of us grandkids, and she never ran short on love. There was always more for her to give. You adopted I don’t know how many dogs in your lifetime, but among them, I remember all the wiener dogs the most, primarily Lumpy. You made the best friend chicken, and started my addiction to turkey bacon. No one ever went hungry at your house. You are one of the toughest people I have ever known, outliving your husband by over 20 years, as well as your brother, and five sisters. I spent more nights at your house than I can count, and I will always be glad that I spent so much time at your house. I will always be glad that you had so many kids, because I have so many cousins, and they were my first friends growing up. We spent almost ever weekend at your house, going to the ‘forts’ my uncles built for us in the woods behind your house. Your house was always filled with food, love, and laughter. Grandma Sally: you are deeply and dearly missed. I am so thankful that you were my grandma, because you taught me to deeply love, and deeply give. You taught me that its always time for ice cream, but that homemade is always the best. You taught me that it’s okay to treat yourself–yours just happened to be every Thursday, getting your hair done. I’m glad that you were at home with your dogs, comfortable. You did not always have a comfortable life, and I’m glad you went in peace with Ryder and Judy, our beloved pups, on your bed. You are the reason I have a big heart, and a stupid-big capacity to love people. And I am so thankful for that.

This has been the hardest week of my life. These two have taught me so much. About life. About love. About kindness. About giving. About family.

One of my biggest hesitations about even applying for the World Race was the fear of losing any grandparents while I was away. The thought of trying to grieve them while abroad was gut-wrenching, and I hated thinking it could even happen, but it was a reality. I now have only one grandparent left, which seems unreal because for so long I’ve had three. And that has been a huge gift, one of the biggest in my life. Out of these losses, I know I’ll stretch and grow so much, in so many ways. But right now, I’m okay to not be okay.

Jesus wept.-John 11:35

IF JESUS WEPT, I THINK ITS OKAY TO BE SAD. Jesus was God and human. His friend died. He cried. So often we try to put a front up, that we’re tough, and don’t need to show emotion about things. Here’s what I have decided: That mentality is a load of BS. We’re made with emotions. We’re meant to feel. We’re meant to grieve. We’re meant to walk through losses feeling. Pain is part of that. A wise friend has told me a lot the past few months, “It’s okay to not be okay.” Through the past week, I’ve cried more tears than I knew were possible. I didn’t even know my eyes were capable of producing this many tears. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve cried so much. And I’m okay with that. I’m okay with being sad that these two are no longer walking the earth. I’ll say this, though:

In some way, I am full of joy, knowing I’ll see them both again.

I’m thankful in knowing they both knew Jesus. That they are both in heaven, renewed bodies and minds. That Jesus is probably having Grandma Sally’s fried chicken, followed up by Grandma Shirley’s chip chocolate pie for dessert. And he won’t be able to refuse because they won’t let him (it’s okay to laugh) get out of the room without him being stuffed.

Through the past week, I have been shown incredible kindness, extravagant love, radical giving. To those who have, and continue to pray for my family: thank you. I can not stress enough how much your prayers, words, and gifts have meant to my family and I. God has abundantly blessed me through all the pain, though at times, it has been hard to see.

I will carry all of these memories with me while I am abroad next year. I will carry Grandma Shirley and Grandma Sally in my heart always. I would not be who I am without having them in my life for nearly 29 years. I love and miss you both, and will leave for this wild adventure much easier, knowing that you are both at peace, watching over me every step of this journey.