"Death unlocks the passageway into eternity..."

I've sung the hymn a hundred times before, but the words never really hit me until yesterday. I was sitting in a chapel in San Antonio, TX, surrounded by dozens of Grandma Sammy's posterity. Sammy died early Wednesday morning, a bit of a shock to us all. She had been healthy and active to the very end--a blessing for her, and a curse for those of us who didn't see it coming, and didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

My own grandmothers both died when I was young. When I married Justin, Sammy became my grandma as well. At age 80, she still ran the family drapery business and regularly traveled cross-country for important events in the lives of her 15 kids and their descendants. She lived modestly, but was a queen in matters of Real importance. A widow these past 16 years, Sammy might have lived alone with her lap dog, but her home was the heart of the Johnson hub, and she regularly welcomed children and grandchildren to her spare room during their many seasons of life transition.

So many adored her, that I feel a bit sheepish offering my meager tribute to this elect lady. However, my heart is full of thoughts and memories of Grandma Sammy that I hope never to forget.

I remember when Grandma would go on what we called "the run". She would drive all over San Antonio and the outlying areas, delivering and picking up drapery orders that her kids in the workshop would scramble to fill. While Justin was in dental school, I helped with the weekly run. I remember driving for hours around town with Grandma in the passenger seat. She could navigate the spaghetti highways and long forgotten back roads of that city with her eyes closed...literally. She really did fall asleep a lot and I felt terrible when I would have to wake her up with a question or for help recovering from a wrong turn. She was always patient and forgiving, and kept her van well stocked with snacks. Peanut butter filled pretzels were my favorite, but they always made me painfully thirsty.

In time, I developed a sort of spreadsheet of directions and stops for the run, so she wouldn't have to ride along with me every time, and could have time for more important things--like taking cruises.

Speaking of cruises, it was in fact Grandma who took me on my first cruise. She and I shared a room, and sailed the Caribbean Sea with three of her kids and their spouses while Justin slaved over his studies and my mother in law watched the kids. I had never gambled before, but Grandma gave me a handful of nickels to put in the on board slot machines. I lost them all and have never gambled since.

Grandma lived a judgeless life of unconditional love. No matter a person's background, beliefs, or road they chose to travel, she always stood with open arms to receive them, and love them, just as they were. The matriarch of many varying and vocal opinions, she encouraged individuality--saying little, but loving much.

These past two days, I've felt the void she has left in the crowded rooms of laughter and jovial people that are her posterity. I've found myself glancing up in anticipation of seeing her just in the next room, with her arm around a granddaughter, and a Sonic cup in her hand. I've envisioned her walking through the pearly gates, reuniting with her eternal companion, enfolded in the arms of her Savior, and enjoying a moment of Endless rest.

For a moment, the veil to heaven seems to have thinned just the slightest bit. Perspective has broadened and focused in on family and relationships. I'm so very glad that I am a part of this family, and get to share in the heritage of such a dear soul. Enjoy the next journey, Grandma Sammy. Until we meet again...