Sarah
- Daynie Rain
- May 18, 2023
- 3 min read
11/8/2022
I've spent my entire life fully confident in the belief that my great grandmother would live to see me get married and have kids of my own. I don't know what it was that made me so positive in that hope, but it was so etched into my mind that I lived as though it were a fact. I knew that she would one day carry the title "great great grandma". My entire growing up, she had always been healthier than any of my friend's grandparents. Her memory was as solid as ever, her eyesight was still strong, she had never even owned a walker until about 5 years ago, and even then, she hardly needed it. Even this past year when her health started declining, and she was in and out of hospitals, I held strong to that faith that she was going to be ok after it all. She had to be, because I had never for even a second imagined a world where she wouldn't be.
But a few weeks ago as I sat next to her whitewashed hospice bed and held her arm as she took her last few breaths, it was the first time I had to consider that what I had grown up believing, was never meant to be the reality of it after all. It was the first time that I had to face the fact that she wasn't invincible just because I believed she was.
Her real name was Sarah, but her nickname was mops because her husband was called pops, so it only made sense. She had snow-white hair and was perfectly poised. She had two daughters of her own, but raised just about every family member of mine at some point in her life. She was a pageant queen and the creator of the best chicken and dumpling recipe on Earth. She loved coffee, but always “only half a cup please”. She was beautiful and she knew it, yet she was so humble and so kind. I've adored her my whole life, and I'll never be able to say any different.

Some of the greatest memories of my life took place in one of the many beautiful homes she's owned throughout my life. She loved to move and loved any excuse to redecorate or remodel. She has owned elegant homes with glass cabinets filled with fine china, and store fronts in the middle of busy cities that she turned into a living space. I remember growing up, my cousins and I used to pose as mannequins in the display windows of her Johnson city home, convinced that no one knew we were real people…. some of the sweetest memories of my life existed within the four brick walls of that warehouse turned regular-house. She was an introvert but always seemed to make an exception when all of the cousins and aunts and uncles wanted to get together and needed a place to stay. In every home she ever owned, she made sure there was a room specifically for the kids- she always made us feel wanted.
Growing up, I can’t remember a sick day where she didn’t bring homemade soup by the house for me. The past year of her being in and out of hospitals is all somewhat of a blur, but the one moment that I haven’t forgotten, is her explaining how she really wanted to be able to make chicken and dumplings for us one last time, but didn’t know if she would be able to again. I remember thinking once again, about how selfless she was and how much it meant that even despite how sick she felt, that was still suck a priority to her because she knew how much we all loved it. It was around that time that her health began to get worse, and that I started to lose sight of her being around forever. It all happened so quick, like there was no warning signs until there was every warning sign.
November 8th is her birthday. Today is the first that she won’t be here for, and there will never be another that she is on Earth to celebrate again….. which is all common knowledge, but when someone who you love dies, it feels like you go back to a childlike understanding of death, and every day is a new realization that they also aren’t here to do this, or to see this, and they actually never will be again-at least that’s the case for me. I’ll spend today celebrating who she was, and all that I am because of her. She lived as a constant example of God’s heart and her impact will never be forgotten, and will always be credited to the person I have become. I love my Mops. Happy 90 <3
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