We watched her.

We recognize that Anna was so many things.

She was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, cousin, and friend. But to us she was our Grandmother.

As we reflected on our grandmother, we compiled these thoughts as a group; today, I have the privilege of reading them for all of us.

We were watching.

We were watching as her hands never idled. From cooking to ironing to cleaning to painting. She moved from task to task, creation to creation, without skipping a beat. Her work and toil were also her joy. Or at least she made it look that way.

We watched as she held all things with open hands. If you had lunch with Grandma, you heard as you left, “Who needs golf clubs?” How about a tennis racket? An air fryer? A car? This $20 bill for the road? At the very least, it was the lunch leftovers and homemade cookies in a plastic bag. Looking back, it wasn’t the stuff. It was the message she said to us: “You are mine. You belong here. And what’s mine is yours.”

We watched at large family gatherings as she somehow made each of us feel seen. She made us all feel like she was SO proud. So proud of our promotions or our graduations or our kids or our facebook posts. We were all amazing. We were all amazing because we were hers.

We watched her as she buried her son and her grandson. Our less-traveled hearts could not imagine. Yet we watched her carry her grief with grace and vulnerability and hope.

We watched her as her marriage endured through the ages. Through each season, we watched them care for each other, tease each other, annoy each other and forgive each other. We ultimately watched them walk each other home.

We watched her as she welcomed great grandchildren. Currently at 26 additional humans, we did not make this easy on her. But we watched as she was so curious and invested in Leana’s plays, or Redding’s artwork, Zeke’s track meet, Irelynd’s volleyball match or Gavin’s band. She rallied the mightiest prayer warriors for each of Quincy’s surgeries. We watched her rejoice and weep right alongside us and our children. Again, it was that message she said to us: “Your heartbreak. Your victories. Your grief. Your celebration. What’s yours is mine.” All 26 of them.

And this is perhaps why we watched her as her eyes would fill with tears whenever she talked or listened to stories about heaven or Jesus. She recognized the temporary veil between heaven and earth, the one that separated her children and her family. And she longed for completion. Wholeness. Togetherness. We watched her long for it. And we long for it too today.

We watched her as her body gave way and her heart remained open. Open to us, generous and kind to us.

We watched her. And she taught us how to live. How to love and how to grieve, how to give and give, and to endure and learn and grow, how to forgive, and hope, and persevere, how to work and how to laugh, how to age, and how to die. We watched her.

We were so lucky to have watched her. To bear witness to her life. To be the recipients of her love and her legacy.

And so we join the chorus of people today who knew her in many different capacities. We join as grandchildren who watched a grandmother. In so doing, she taught us, guided us, and lit the path toward heaven.