Friday, December 7, 2007

A short update-Well, hopefully short

Oliver has been very upset because the lizard hunting has been scarce. But Charles discovered a lizard in the house this morning. I guess it has been surviving indoors for two weeks now. It was left in Oliver's pocket, and thankfully escaped before the washer machine got it.


I left the children with a sitter all day today, since I had so many meetings in downtown Atlanta. Oliver was releasing and recatching the lizard for fun. The sitter, Ms. Jean, went to get a drink, and suddenly Oliver was gone. He had wandered over to Bo's to check his bushes for lizards, but of course, Jean didn't think to check there. She frantically checked the house hollering. I think Oliver enjoyed the fact that someone noticed he was gone.


Sunday night we went to Jon's parents' house because his grandmother was dying. Monday night we went again. Tuesday night just Jon and the kids went over. Wednesday night Little MorMor died. Thursday morning I explained to the children that Little MorMor had died. They were ready for it and just listened and accepted the news. We went over to Jon's parents' house Thursday night, and the children and I wandered around Little MorMor's apartment. She had little Bible verses written out and pinned to things here and there. It was strange that she wasn't sitting in her little chair with her reading lamp on, knitting or doing crossword puzzles. No one cried, but we were all sad and felt a little empty and strange being in the cozy apartment with the big AGA stove radiating heat without having Little MorMor there.


Her death prompted a lot of discussion and questions. Was she underground yet? Would she be buried in a pine box like Big Grandpa? Did she like heaven?


Vivian has a new trick of chanting "Ron Paul, Ron Paul". She grins real big and claps her hands excited. Little MorMor would think it was the cutest thing. When she held a great grandbaby in the kitchen she would say, "The best we have we put on the table," and then she would put the baby on the table.


Little MorMor will be missed. Maybe we didn't burst into tears, but there is a little achey hollow for the warmth and joy the children had when sitting on the little footstool by her special chair, chatting with her, or looking at her giant picture books, or just watching her knit. We have joy that we will all be reunited in heaven one day.