A Hole in My Heart

I've been running again lately.  I've done four miles, but generally do three.  The hills are killer.  I really do live where it is up hill both ways. 

At the top of the steepest hill, I often see this little old lady walking around her yard.  She wears a duster.  A duster is a light, loose fitting, long housecoat.  It seems that if my grandmother was at home, she was wearing a duster.  The lady I see while running looks like my grandmother.  Nah, she isn't a dead ringer.  However, the duster, her build, her hair, the way she walks and the slight grumpy expression she wears are strong reminders.

The other morning she was on the sidewalk.  As I passed, I took out my earbud and said good morning. 

She spoke, "I wish I could jog." 

I stopped and turned to look at her, "If I can do it, anyone can." 

She smiled and said, "I have two holes in my heart."   

"Walking is good for you."

"Yes."

Smiling, "Have a great day."

She smiled and waved.

I ran and tried not to cry.

When I see her I think of my grandmother and talking to her reminded me of the hole in my heart.  Today marks a year since Grandma met Jesus.  I know that sounds so cliche', but it really is what happened and what I try to think about when I find myself missing her.

Today is Grandparent's Day.  How fitting for the one year anniversary.