It's hard to know where exactly to start when writing about those that you love that you won't see again on this side of heaven. Thinking through all of the memories, sifting through so many wonderful days, and wanting to get them all down in print so that they never completely fade.
Here is my attempt at recording my relationship with my Grandma Teusink, who went to be with Jesus today at the age of 90.
I remember walking in her front door on 42nd Ave so many times, brushing my hands over the piano keys, grabbing a mint from the glass rooster jar, and knowing that there was either something delicious in the oven or that there would be soon. The kitchen table in that house always had a project close at hand, whether we were making date cookies, sprinkling paprika on the mashed potatoes for Sunday lunch, or spreading cheese onto crackers. In that house, she also had a cupboard full of games and Sunday school activity sheets. She was always ready for her grandchildren to visit.
One winter she was watching my brother and I after we had moved across the mountains to Kent. It was snowing that Sunday morning, but she was determined to get us to church in her old '91 Chevy Cavalier. We went down the James street hill (slipping and sliding down it, really) and I remember being terrified, but we survived. What usually took us 15 minutes took what felt like hours, and when we got to church no one was there because they didn't dare go out in that snowstorm. Grandma wasn't afraid of a little snow. Nothing seemed to phase her. When I graduated from college and needed a car of my own, grandma gave up hers for me. Driving that old Cavalier was an adventure, but one that grandma definitely understood.
It was probably on that same visit that I tried out some new-phangled brush that I had gotten a few weeks before. It got terribly tangled in my hair (which I desperately wanted to cut), but she patiently untangled that mess, strand by strand, and didn't seem annoyed or frustrated. Not one strand was cut. She was determined to keep it that way.
As she got older, it got harder for grandma to get around, but she still found a way. I remember when Episode 2 of Star Wars came out in theaters and Yoda hobbled into the scene, only to throw his cane to the side and take down all of the crazies that stood in his path. I laughed out loud in the theater when I saw it, because I could totally imagine grandma doing the same. She was my Yoda. A force to be reckoned with. Someone who would proudly stand up for her family and went to bat for us whenever necessary.
Grandma loved fiercely, and she was so proud of all of her children and grandchildren. She went to each of our college graduations, even when travel got harder and her health got worse. She was so proud of all that we had done and all that we were going to do. I wish I could have know my grandpa better, but from her stories over the years I knew their love well. She was eager to get to heaven and be at the feet of Jesus, with grandpa by her side.
And now she is there. And here on earth, we're rejoicing at her homecoming, but our hearts ache a little.
I will miss her soft hands and contagious laugh. (She always told me washing dishes was the best manicure.)
I'll miss the stories and the sighs as she talked of days and years gone by.
I'll miss the way she said interesting (which meant she really didn't like something). She never told you that she hated it...it was just interesting and that was that.
I'll miss that last hour of every visit I had with her over the past few years, filled with reading some of her favorite Psalms together and praying for each other.
I'll miss the way she said my name...never Bekah, always Rebekah. Usually when someone calls me Rebekah they don't know me very well...but with Grandma it was just the opposite. She'd been there for me since day one. One of my biggest fans and greatest prayer warriors.
See you later, sweet Yoda of mine. Love you, now and always.
Here is my attempt at recording my relationship with my Grandma Teusink, who went to be with Jesus today at the age of 90.
I remember walking in her front door on 42nd Ave so many times, brushing my hands over the piano keys, grabbing a mint from the glass rooster jar, and knowing that there was either something delicious in the oven or that there would be soon. The kitchen table in that house always had a project close at hand, whether we were making date cookies, sprinkling paprika on the mashed potatoes for Sunday lunch, or spreading cheese onto crackers. In that house, she also had a cupboard full of games and Sunday school activity sheets. She was always ready for her grandchildren to visit.
One winter she was watching my brother and I after we had moved across the mountains to Kent. It was snowing that Sunday morning, but she was determined to get us to church in her old '91 Chevy Cavalier. We went down the James street hill (slipping and sliding down it, really) and I remember being terrified, but we survived. What usually took us 15 minutes took what felt like hours, and when we got to church no one was there because they didn't dare go out in that snowstorm. Grandma wasn't afraid of a little snow. Nothing seemed to phase her. When I graduated from college and needed a car of my own, grandma gave up hers for me. Driving that old Cavalier was an adventure, but one that grandma definitely understood.
It was probably on that same visit that I tried out some new-phangled brush that I had gotten a few weeks before. It got terribly tangled in my hair (which I desperately wanted to cut), but she patiently untangled that mess, strand by strand, and didn't seem annoyed or frustrated. Not one strand was cut. She was determined to keep it that way.
As she got older, it got harder for grandma to get around, but she still found a way. I remember when Episode 2 of Star Wars came out in theaters and Yoda hobbled into the scene, only to throw his cane to the side and take down all of the crazies that stood in his path. I laughed out loud in the theater when I saw it, because I could totally imagine grandma doing the same. She was my Yoda. A force to be reckoned with. Someone who would proudly stand up for her family and went to bat for us whenever necessary.
Grandma loved fiercely, and she was so proud of all of her children and grandchildren. She went to each of our college graduations, even when travel got harder and her health got worse. She was so proud of all that we had done and all that we were going to do. I wish I could have know my grandpa better, but from her stories over the years I knew their love well. She was eager to get to heaven and be at the feet of Jesus, with grandpa by her side.
And now she is there. And here on earth, we're rejoicing at her homecoming, but our hearts ache a little.
I will miss her soft hands and contagious laugh. (She always told me washing dishes was the best manicure.)
I'll miss the stories and the sighs as she talked of days and years gone by.
I'll miss the way she said interesting (which meant she really didn't like something). She never told you that she hated it...it was just interesting and that was that.
I'll miss that last hour of every visit I had with her over the past few years, filled with reading some of her favorite Psalms together and praying for each other.
I'll miss the way she said my name...never Bekah, always Rebekah. Usually when someone calls me Rebekah they don't know me very well...but with Grandma it was just the opposite. She'd been there for me since day one. One of my biggest fans and greatest prayer warriors.
See you later, sweet Yoda of mine. Love you, now and always.
May 2009 - Graduation Day
Summer 2016
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