May 9, 2005
“Gram died today.”
When the class phone rang in 7th period on May 9, 2005, I never could have imagined that the phone call was for me. I was told to head to the office without an explanation, but deep down, I knew everything about my life was about to change.
There are things about that day at the end of my freshman year that are still so vivid 15 years later:
Walking to the front office and trying to figure out what could possibly be happening.
Seeing my mom and two family friends waiting for me at the front of the school.
Hearing those three words, “Gram died today.”
The silent drive out to my grandparents house as so many questions raced through my head.
The caution tape and police car waiting as we pulled up.
Hearing, “Gram loved you so much,” and finally putting the pieces together.
My grandmother died at 59 years old by suicide. The vibrant, cornerstone of our family took her own life hours after our family sat around her table and celebrated her for Mother’s Day.
Today, 15 years later, I really miss my grandmother.
Gram’s name was Joyce, and she exhibited JOY so fully. She was the very best grandmother not only to her five grandchildren but to anyone who needed a grandmother. She always showed up and made everything better. She was the best cook I’ve ever known, and her pies were always the highest ticket item at any church dessert auction. She made Christmases, birthdays, and Sundays exciting, magical, delicious. She loved the Lord and taught His word so faithfully. She wrote thousands of cards of encouragement and lifted the spirits of so many. When I had great news to share, she would exclaim, “All right!” in the very best way.
So many things have happened in the past 15 years: really great, fun exciting things that I would have loved to share with Gram. There have also been really hard, dark, painful things that I’m almost glad she hasn’t been here to see, but I still wish I could have cried in her arms.
In 2005 I clung to Romans 5:3-5, and I’m still so thankful for those words now, ““And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”
Today, 15 years later, I’m thankful for hope. I’m thankful that Joyce Morrow was my grandmother and that I get to carry on her legacy in some small ways.
I’ve been playing this song all day, and I think it shares her legacy so well:
“Let my children tell their children
Let this be their memory
That all my treasure was in heaven
And You were everything to me
No one ever cared for me like Jesus
His faithful hand has held me all this way
And when I'm old and grey
And all my days are numbered on the earth
Let it be known in You alone
My joy was found
I've found my joy”
“No One Ever Cared for Me Like Jesus” -Steffany Gretzinger
15 years ago today, my world was rocked by suicide. The pain has become bearable, but time hasn’t made it go away. I wish I had known her hurt and pain that she kept masked. I wish so many things could be different, but more than anything I wish she were still here. She is not the way that she died.
Suicide is messy and complicated and painful. I wish I had known her pain. I wish I could have helped. I miss Gram so terribly and still can’t believe she isn’t here. Today I’m celebrating Gram’s legacy by baking her legendary chocolate and coconut pies and writing cards.
If you or someone you know is hurting, please reach out to a trusted friend or call the National Suicide Prevention Center at 1-800-273-8255.
