Strassen Schaden

About six months ago I was in the middle of my "lent walks".

That sounds weird.  

What I mean is that I had committed to praying while walking each day for the 40ish days of Lent.

Today I was on that same trail that I logged so many miles on last Spring.  I still try to spend some of my time during runs/walks praying.  It is a good time for me to think, and thinking often leads to praying.  I had already listened to some music, reflected on my day, and was just settling in to some prayer time.

I was on the path just past the park bench and not quite yet to the pond.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed.

My mind flashed to being on this path about six months ago, praying, praying for my Grandma.
This was long before we had any reason to think she was living the last months of her life.

I was praying for her trip.  I remember praying specifically that God would work out the details of her travels and praying for my parents as they were originally the ones who where going to be driving her around on a tour d' Washington during the month of June.  I remember praying one day for her health.  That she would enjoy her trip and the journey and that she would not be stressed out or too exhausted from the trip.

And my heart broke.

I stopped at the pond and cried.

Part of me is still broken over her death.
A sadness that she is gone.
And a little traumatized from sitting with her in the weeks before she died.
It was painful to see this once active woman, full of energy and never short of words, suddenly transformed.
It was hard to watch my parents and other family members linger at her bedside wishing for the inevitable to come, but not quite ready to say goodbye.
It shook me to see her pain and struggle.

My memories of those last days, weeks, are vivid.  They are in full color and sound.  I remember her words, her touch, everything.  The last time I fed her, the last time she responded to me, the last moment that she breathed.
I have replayed those days over and over.
Each time causing pain, but still not ready for the memories to fade.

While I wouldn't change those weeks, it was one of the most challenging experiences of my life.

As I stood in front of the pond wiping my tears away I noticed that the pond wasn't really even a pond anymore.  It was completely covered in grass.
To someone who had never been on the path before, it would appear that this area was a wide open field.

I decided that I was standing in this particular spot for a reason.  I was crying over my grandma and standing in front of a pond that was disguised as a field.
Surely there was some deeper meaning to this pond.  I just needed to listen.  There must be some answer or comfort hidden in there.
But there wasn't.
I didn't walk away with any deep meaning of the grass covered pond.
And I don't have any revelation as to why my grandma's last months of her life played out the way they did.
Maybe there is a pond lesson, maybe I am supposed to gain some great wisdom from my grandma's death, but right now it is just a pond covered in grass and a granddaughter sad that her grandma died.