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I had never seen this photo until Friday, but someone snapped it 13 years ago. This is why photographs are so important; they preserve the memories that begin to fade.
Some are not fortunate enough to have ever met a grandparent. Others might experience fuzzy memories from the brief time they had with them.
Consider me spoiled; the good Lord let me keep all four of mine long enough to give me a lifetime of fond remembrance.
Readers of this publication will recall that I wrote a grief-filled tribute to a grandmother who was lost to COVID-19 in January 2021.
Less than two years later, my family had to say goodbye to my last grandparent: my paternal grandmother, Edith Hensley.
The medical saga that led to her passing is far too intricate to be covered here. I always said she was tougher than a Waffle House steak and there was a serious mentality among my family that she would outlive all of us.
Even in her final days, she fought.
But here’s the thing about the fight to live that so many put up: God’s timing is perfect and none of us know the course He has charted for us. Fight all you want; when He calls you home, you go.
And so, she did.
In perhaps the sweetest goodbye anyone could ever selfishly ask for, I took an ultra-rare personal day on Dec. 8, drove 2 1/2 hours to Atlanta and said my goodbyes. With immediate family in the room, my aunt whispered that I was there.
“I love you, Kevin,” she said, with barely any strength left in her Southern drawl.
And I cried, uncontrollably.
I returned the sentiment, then we sang her favorite songs (thank goodness my uncle was in the room to help shoulder that load). Hospice care was minutes away from beginning, so we got on our knees and prayed for a peaceful parting.
I truly believe it was at that moment her soul departed. The presence of our Savior filled the room and in my heart, she began her crossing into the better half of this journey. I left that night, full of peace that her decades-long pains was over.
The majority of my family saw her after that, with my hometown of Ellijay, Ga., much closer than Graham County. Like she was entering the 15th round of a judges’ decision, her body lingered – though daily updates told of her steady decline, her oxygen levels stayed higher than most able-bodied individuals.
A week after I said goodbye, she took her last breath.
We buried her Sunday afternoon, next to the grandpa I lost 17 years ago – on a chilly, yet sunny day. It was only appropriate that what should be a dark day was so bright.
She was as disciplined a Bible reader as I have ever known – I have lost count of how many times I called her after a football game to discuss how the Knights did and get an update on the hometown Bobcats, only to disturb her from a slumber where she had dozed off reading the Good Book, then resumed reading it after we hung up.
Sometime along the way, she undoubtedly came across Matthew 5:16: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”
Here’s the difference between her and 99.9 percent of Christians today: the majority of us – myself included – try to be a light; she undisputedly was.
To try and count the number of knitted blankets (“afghans”) she made for newborns, as wedding presents or just by special request would be impossible. The lives she touched with her warm smile – at church or at the grocery store – is also innumerable. Many that knew her will also tell you just how encouraging she was about keeping the faith to others who might be going through a weak patch.
We lost “Nene” (humble brag; I was the first grandchild, so I was able to afford nicknames that the family still uses today) just 10 days before Christmas.
There is never really a good time to lose a loved one – but instead of focusing on that, I will instead focus on one of her favorite gospel songs, "Beautiful Star of Bethlehem.”
Viewed by the majority of culture as a Christmas tune, it is a song that is really applicable year-round – after all, He is always present.
Hours after her funeral, my aunt text me this thought from her young, adopted son: “Mommy, you see that bright star? That’s Nene’s heart, and it’s going to shine bright forever.”
“… For Jesus is now that star divine, brighter and brighter He will shine;
“Beautiful Star of Bethlehem, shine on!”
Kevin Hensley is the publisher/editor of The Graham Star. He can be reached via phone, 479-3383; email, editor@grahamstar.com; or on Twitter, @KevinHensleyCNI.