At first, I did not want to share it with the kids. Yet, I was sure I would have to, and I thought I would have to do it soon, which is why I started the scrapbook in the first place.
I was pretty sure that my dear Aggie was going to die.
I knew that if her eyes closed one last time, I would have four other sets of little eyes, staring at me with questions.
And what if Aggie knew? What if there came time for Hospice and preparing and Aggie's own questions? What would I say to her? How in the world would I be able to say anything, or do anything at all, other than try to merely function under the weight of my own grief?
I did not trust myself. I had to prepare. I had to organize the Truth and have it at hand, sitting there in black and white, ready to strengthen weak faith and heavy hearts... just in case.
So I started a scrapbook. Like a squirrel gathering acorns, I gathered promises. I stored away Words of hope and truth.
I read those Words, I cut them out, and I clung to them. I put them in a scrapbook right next to pictures of those who have gone before, and I imagined those promises fulfilled.
|baby me, and grandma, and grandpa|