SomeLetters

Dear Grampy,

I am writing by dim light on my tiny travel keyboard that always skips the "m's", so this may turn out goofy. I am in a hotel room, half a mile from your hospital bed, and a half mile in the other direction from your home, which is where my heart is--well, part of it, at least. I still get butterflies when I pass the yellow fire station sign and get ready to turn down the street to your house (once my house, too). I called from the road near Flagstaff to check on you today and was surprised when you answered the phone, sounding so normal. The sound of our voice nearly made me cry. It reminded me of one time when you called from Africa, and I did cry for joy at the sound of your voice because it was very much like a "voice from the dust"--you were so far away and I missed you and needed you so much then!

When I came alone to your room tonight, the lights were off and you were asleep, half sitting up with your mouth open a little. Your hair was toussled a bit, with just the silver catching light, and your face was so gaunt from that angle, I did not recognize you. Oh, no, I thought, I'm going to wake this poor little man--I'll go ask where my grandpa is. And then the nurse sent me back to room 8. I went back and looked closer, walking roun to the other side of the bed, and in that light, I saw the rest of your hair, and your soft cheeks and knew it was you. I put my hands on yours and watched you for a minute. You began to struggle to breathe and your mouth seemed dry, so I moved your chin to close your mouth a bit and tried to give you a drop of water. You didn't stir, so I kissed each cheek and told you I love you and hoped you'd make it through the night. Then I walked back out to my family, where my big, sweet husband gave me a big sweet hug that reminded me that I am going to be okay.

I hope I get to see you awake and that you recognize me. I hope you remember all the things I have said before, about how much you have meant to me, how your love gave me the self-respect to make good choices and led me to understand my Heavenly Father's love, and planted the seeds of the testimony I have today that makes me strong. Don't get me wrong--my heart is so heavy thinking of this world without you in it, without our weekly chats and special visits--but I am also excited for you to progress, to graduate from "this mortal coil" and be free from what ails you. God knows you have fought the good fight! I will continue to strive make my life a worthy memorial to you. Your love will always motivate me, no matter which side of the veil you happen to be on.

I'll see ya in the morning, lovey...Love, Jamie.

***

Dear SisterFriends and Mom Melin in Montana,

I would so love to be going through this with you by my side. I miss each of you so much and I am so touched and blessed by your thoughtful words and acts. I listened to my BYU Classic Speeches podcast today on our long drive thru AZ. The talk was from 1964 by apostle GB Hinckley and it was called "How Lucky Can You Be?" Even in this hard time, I truly feel blessed and lucky because there is so much love and so much Spirit in my life, and much of it comes from YOU. You do the errand of angels thing so well!

Love, Jamie
***

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for giving me a Grampy to show me Your love and The Way home. Thank you for giving me a kind and patient husband and brilliant, hilarious children to light up my days. Thank you also for giving me the experience of feeling joy in the temple on Friday, then edifying me with conference on Saturday and Sunday, so that I can face this week with grace. You are always so good to me; you always prepare a way.

Love, Jamie