I think about how much she would have enjoyed Laura Kate right now. How much she would have laughed at Laura Kate's, well laurakateness.  I can almost hear my dad telling her stories about Laura Kate and it making her day. I think about planning to go to Alabama soon and her not being there to see my kids traipse down the pasture or cook the fish we catch in the pond. 

She never met Shepherd. Never had a chance to know about him when she was here. I think if she did know him she would tell me stories about how he was like my dad or not like him. If I told her about my amazing epidural at his birth I think she would tell me the story again about how she was completely knocked out by her anesthesia when my dad was born and when she woke up she had a baby. I think she would tell me that Shepherd favors me and maybe my brother a little bit. As I look at his profile right now, Shep reminds me of a picture of my dad when he was a baby. She might pull that out to show me. Maybe she just did. I think about how if I told her "I just had to let him cry today" she would probably tell me the story about how she was at her end with my dad one day and just laid him in his crib and walked outside for ten minutes and when she came back in, he was asleep. Wisdom to remember. 

I remember at the viewing how, standing before the casket, Aunt Deb came and put her arm around me and told me that she was just talking to her a few days before and how she told her how proud she was about the job I was doing as a mother. I come back to that on hard days with my kids. 

I love that Kyle had an instant connection with her. Love that he got to know her. Both stubborn and strong-willed. I remember waking up at the farm and walking in on the two of them in conversation at the table, coffee cups empty and ready for a refill. I remember thinking "Of course they would click and find conversation easily."

In Lubbock last week, my dad's phone rang beside me in the kitchen. I looked to see who it was and it said "Jim and Joanne Wood" but I only saw the "Joanne Wood". My thought process looked like this: Delight: "Grandmother is calling!". Sad  Remembering: "She can't be calling".  Longing: "I wish she was calling". Humor: "That would be kind of weird if she did call".

I find myself jealous of people who get to say good-bye.  I told Kyle last night that I wish I could just talk to her one more time. 

But what would I tell her? If I knew it would be the last time I talk to her what would I say?  

I would tell her how much I love her as many times as I could fit into the conversation. I would tell her about my kids. I would thank her for passing on her legacy of reading and ask her for a new book recommendation. I would ask her to tell me one more time the story about how she walked in the snow to school. I would tell her how much I love Jesus and was glad she did too. I would listen to anything she wanted to say to me and I would write it down so I wouldn't forget. I would say I love you one more time. And I would ask her for her macaroni and cheese recipe. And I would say good-bye. 

So today, I plan on putting on my Grandmother's apron and smelling it and pretending like it still smells like her. Baking cupcakes with her first great-grandchild, snuggling my boy and thinking about the ways he is like my dad and brother and me, and thanking Jesus for the legacy of a woman who knew him and loved him and knew me and loved me too. A lot.