Mamaw and Milkshakes

mamaw
I blinked, and Christmas was over. It used to last so much longer when I was a kid.

Our family’s Christmas was very different this year. On my mom’s side of the family, a few family members were missing from the celebration, but the gathering was as rambunctious as ever. On the Talley side, all were present, but it was a bittersweet time. My mamaw is in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease, and on Christmas Eve, my papaw sadly asked us what we thought of moving her to a nursing home. At 82, he just isn’t able to care for her at their home anymore.

Mamaw has been ready to go to heaven for many years now, and when that time comes, of course I’ll miss her, but I won’t be a bit sorry. Her laugh was infectious and the way she ran through the house like Edith Bunker was hilarious. I learned to sing the alto part sitting beside her in church and will always carry a part of her onstage with me. No matter how severely her disease progresses, I will always look at her and see the lady who drove me to and from school every day and sometimes stopped for milkshakes on the way home.

It’s possible that Christmas ’09 was our last one together as the whole family in that house, and that thought is why I’m sitting at my computer trying not to let tears splash down on the keyboard. But with endings come beginnings.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Letting go and accepting change is hard, but we are never without His grace. There are new memories to be made. The future is bright, and I’m going to celebrate with a milkshake.