I had known it was coming. We all did. Grandma was diagnosed with multiple myeloma last November, a kind of cancer of the blood. We knew it was coming at Christmas, when for the first time, she didn't commandeer the infamous Christmas dinner. She never left her chair, and barely smiled when we opened presents. We knew it was coming when chemo made her sicker than the cancer did. We knew it was coming when she couldn't eat anything for months. But none of that made it any easier.

Dad passed the phone to my mom. There's something different about hearing your mom's voice. I had been mostly sniffly up to that point, but as soon as she was on the line the sobs came. She tried to comfort me as best as she could, but her own voice was starting to choke up. She couldn't talk long because they were phoning other family, so we hung up.

I sat on my bedroom floor in my Sunday dress shaking. The last thing I wanted to do was be around people, but I got ready for church anyway. I came a little later. I'm an ugly crier, and it took awhile for my face not to look so splotchy. During church, it was hard to hold back the awful lump in my throat. I am so thankful that I went though. I needed to be with my church family that day. 

My Grandma Froc was my Daddy's mom, and the grandparent I was closest to. So the news hit me good and hard. I spent the rest of the day alternating between crying and calling home to hear my mom's voice. Plans were made for me to come home later that week for the funeral.