grace and peace

Bertha died. On Friday. She was 97. Mom and my sister are going to the funeral today. I'm sad that I can't be going with them.

I don't know what to say about Bertha. She was my grandmother's friend. She was the librarian in my mom's small Texas hometown. When we were little and would go to visit our grandparents, going to see Bertha at the library was one of the big treats we looked forward to (the others were getting to drink Dr. Pepper and gettng Slush Puppies at Allsup's. We were the only grandchildren, and we were spoiled there.). She always welcomed us like we were her own grandchildren, and she always had Lifesavers and let us check out as many books as we wanted. When I grew up, she would send letters to Baylor, telling me how things were going back in Groom, how the weather was and how the crops were doing. She always called my parents' house on my birthday to ask them to pass on her best wishes.

I went to see Bertha with mom and daddy two summers ago. She was homebound by then, but still sharp as a tack, and taking as little medicine as possible - she insisted that that was why she was still alive. As we left, she said that she probably wouldn't see us again, but that we would walk the streets of gold together.

She loved us and we loved her. She was one of those rare people who are not your family, not technically, but really are. I will miss her.