My dad's mother, my Reubmummy passed away this afternoon. She has been on the brink for quite a while now. Months even. Her little frame has slowly been letting her go and today victory was manifested against the flesh.

Oh death where is thy sting? Oh grave where is thy victory?

We are thankful. Not that her life is over, but that she is no longer tired. That she is no longer waiting for a life she couldn't even imagine to show her peace.

I have such mixed memories. In my childhood she was a little woman I did not understand, a growl, a sharp prick. In my youth she was an elder I tried fruitlessly to get to know, a sarcastic response, a wall. In my early adult life she was a figure I tied myself to, a heritage, a story. By my 30's she began to soften. She became a grandmother I sheltered beside, a teacher, an ear. I found that she loved me and that she was proud of me and all the rest was braided into the stronger cord I had found in her. She was still a growl when my kids were too close to her quilts, still a wall when I wanted to take her picture, still a distant heritage she seemed to think I should know more about, but these were only parts of little woman who completed a role I needed for a while.

Like her hundreds of quilts, she had a plain and simple side that supported the whole, a centered softness that was well hidden and a color that displayed itself in pieces and well planned order. She finished as a comforter, whispering her love to those who took the time to bring their ears close enough to hear.

Her house was always warm. Too warm, and I can only guess that her leaving on a cool day in August is a sign that she was leaving before another cold winter would find her. The well meaning gas stoves that used to propel Kris from her trailer soon after we arrived will most likely have a more restful season. Though she stopped quilting a few months ago, her quilts are still present in all of our homes and if this summer's coolness is any indication of what winter will be like...they will be much in use.

We will go this week and say our farewells and laugh together over the experiences we all shared with her. I am certain that I will learn more about her in the next week while listening to others, than I could have from any of our conversations. I feel very blessed to have had the time to sit with her, to visit, to show her things I've done, to listen while she instructed me on how to make her famous Velvet Lunch Cake (she even told me that my great-grandmother on my mom's side gave her the recipe), to make silent stitches beside her while little baby Ivan played on another handmade quilt on the floor beside us. There are few experiences I could interest anyone with, but many little moments I will deeply cherish.

January 18, 1914 - August 30, 2009