5 years…
5 years ago today, I lost a piece of my heart. A piece of my heart went to Heaven with my
Gravel when she went home to be with Jesus.
My heart broke in a way that I didn’t even know was possible when I told
me Gravel “see you later” for the last time.
She and I always had a special kind of relationship. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she
was in my corner. What I wouldn’t give
for one more hug… She gave the best hugs
and she always held my hand. I never
ever one time in my life doubted that she loved me. I never ever one time in my life doubted that
she was proud of me.
I chewed a piece of doublemint gum during Sunday school this
morning, and my mind went straight to her.
It doesn’t take much for me to think of her. I’m glad that she’s still so alive in my
memories. She will always be alive
there. I wish I could play uno with her
one more time. I wish I could lay in her
bed with her one more time. She always let
me lay on her arm. Now that I have kids,
I know how quickly your arm goes to sleep when a kid is laying on it, but she
always let me lay on her arm, and she never complained that it was going to
sleep. She was the first person to ever “dutch
oven” me. Yes, you read that right. But she was also the person that instilled in
me the importance of going to church and studying God’s Word daily. I believe in love because of the way that I saw
her and my grandpa love each other. Oh
what an eternal difference she made in this world because of the difference she
made in me…
I wish she could see what awesome kids Jaxon and Knox are
growing up to be. I wish that she could
have met and held my sweet baby girl. She
would love Paxton Grace so very much. I’m
pretty sure that she would think that she’s about the greatest thing ever… She was so proud of Justin too- for the stand he took for Jesus, and for the way he loved me and took care of me. She loved his smile. She called him Smiley. She would be so proud of the life we have. I wish I could argue with her one more time
about who loves who more. I’m so
thankful that our story isn’t over and that she will be there waiting on me
when I get home.
She’s been gone for five years, and I still think about her
every day. In honor of my Gravel- I wanted
to share something that I wrote in 2003- 13 years ago, when I was
18 years old and a freshman in college.
“I’ve Loved You the
Longest”
When I was
a child, my whole world revolved around my Gravel. And now, as a young adult, she’s still the
one that can make me smile when no one else can.
When I was younger, my favorite place to go was my Grave’s. I’d spend the night with her every chance I got. Before bed, I’d go into the bathroom to take my shower. I always made my Gravel stay in the bathroom with me while I was in the shower. For some strange reason, I did not like to be in the bathroom by myself. We always stayed up as late as our eyes would let us before we’d finally lie down in her waterbed. Once our heads hit the pillows it was time to talk. We talked about everything. And I giggled about everything.
She’d tell me the story of Hansel and Gretel over and over again, because she knew that it terrified me. I guess my favorite thing was her stories- the stories about her and her childhood. She’d tell me about her best friends when she was younger. I loved to hear stories about her friends, and I’d love to try to compare them to my own friends. She told me stories of her parents, my great grandparents, who passed away before I was every born. Her stories were so real that I feel like I knew them. She told me stories about my mom growing up and the ways that we were alike. I remember that I used to close my eyes and picture my mom, and wonder to myself that if we were the same age, if we would have been best friends.
Before long, Gravel would have me giggling so loud that Papaw would yell at us to be quiet and go to sleep. I’d cover my mouth up with the edge of the blanket and cut my eyes over at my Gravel, who would always have some sort of sarcastic little grin on her face. Then I’d continue my giggling. Papaw would finally give up on us and just go to sleep himself.
As the hours passed, my eyes would continue to get heavier. Finally, just before drifting into dreamland, I’d lay my head over on my Gravel’s arm. And I’d always say, “I love you.”
“I love you, Kendra Marie,” my Gravel would reply.
“I love you more,” I’d say.
Gravel would answer, “But I’ve loved you the longest.”
Being the argumentative child that I was (and still sometimes am), I’d sharply say, “Uh uh, I’ve loved you the longest.”
“How’s that?” Gravel would ask. “I loved you before you were even born.”
To which I replied, “Well, I loved you before you were even born.”
Through her laughter Gravel would say somewhat hesitantly, “But Kendra, you weren’t even born then.”
Being the smart child that I was, I always had a comeback for everything. But every night as I was engaged in this same conversation with my Gravel, I’d have the same response. “I know I wasn’t born yet, silly. But I was in Heaven, and God told me ‘Kendra, that right there is going to be your Gravel someday.’”
It was almost as if Gravel just loved to hear my response because she acted just as shocked to hear it each time. She’d laugh her sweet laugh, and say to me, “Goodnight sweet baby doll.”
“Goodnight Gravel.”
I could never fall asleep until I knew that she was asleep. I felt safe in her arms, and as a child, I did believe that I had loved her the longest. I had told myself that story so many times that I could actually picture myself, sitting upon a cloud in Heaven with God, and seeing the joy on my great grandparent’s faces as my Gravel breathed her first breaths. I could see my Gravel running barefoot through a field with her childhood friends, laughing and playing, and not having a care in the world. I could see my Gravel raising my mother to be the wonderful person that she is today. And I loved her. I watched her up until the day that I entered this world to be with her. And then I felt her for the first time. She held me. She looked into my eyes, and my world has been forever better because of her.
In my heart, I’ll always believe that I have loved her the longest.
When I was younger, my favorite place to go was my Grave’s. I’d spend the night with her every chance I got. Before bed, I’d go into the bathroom to take my shower. I always made my Gravel stay in the bathroom with me while I was in the shower. For some strange reason, I did not like to be in the bathroom by myself. We always stayed up as late as our eyes would let us before we’d finally lie down in her waterbed. Once our heads hit the pillows it was time to talk. We talked about everything. And I giggled about everything.
She’d tell me the story of Hansel and Gretel over and over again, because she knew that it terrified me. I guess my favorite thing was her stories- the stories about her and her childhood. She’d tell me about her best friends when she was younger. I loved to hear stories about her friends, and I’d love to try to compare them to my own friends. She told me stories of her parents, my great grandparents, who passed away before I was every born. Her stories were so real that I feel like I knew them. She told me stories about my mom growing up and the ways that we were alike. I remember that I used to close my eyes and picture my mom, and wonder to myself that if we were the same age, if we would have been best friends.
Before long, Gravel would have me giggling so loud that Papaw would yell at us to be quiet and go to sleep. I’d cover my mouth up with the edge of the blanket and cut my eyes over at my Gravel, who would always have some sort of sarcastic little grin on her face. Then I’d continue my giggling. Papaw would finally give up on us and just go to sleep himself.
As the hours passed, my eyes would continue to get heavier. Finally, just before drifting into dreamland, I’d lay my head over on my Gravel’s arm. And I’d always say, “I love you.”
“I love you, Kendra Marie,” my Gravel would reply.
“I love you more,” I’d say.
Gravel would answer, “But I’ve loved you the longest.”
Being the argumentative child that I was (and still sometimes am), I’d sharply say, “Uh uh, I’ve loved you the longest.”
“How’s that?” Gravel would ask. “I loved you before you were even born.”
To which I replied, “Well, I loved you before you were even born.”
Through her laughter Gravel would say somewhat hesitantly, “But Kendra, you weren’t even born then.”
Being the smart child that I was, I always had a comeback for everything. But every night as I was engaged in this same conversation with my Gravel, I’d have the same response. “I know I wasn’t born yet, silly. But I was in Heaven, and God told me ‘Kendra, that right there is going to be your Gravel someday.’”
It was almost as if Gravel just loved to hear my response because she acted just as shocked to hear it each time. She’d laugh her sweet laugh, and say to me, “Goodnight sweet baby doll.”
“Goodnight Gravel.”
I could never fall asleep until I knew that she was asleep. I felt safe in her arms, and as a child, I did believe that I had loved her the longest. I had told myself that story so many times that I could actually picture myself, sitting upon a cloud in Heaven with God, and seeing the joy on my great grandparent’s faces as my Gravel breathed her first breaths. I could see my Gravel running barefoot through a field with her childhood friends, laughing and playing, and not having a care in the world. I could see my Gravel raising my mother to be the wonderful person that she is today. And I loved her. I watched her up until the day that I entered this world to be with her. And then I felt her for the first time. She held me. She looked into my eyes, and my world has been forever better because of her.
In my heart, I’ll always believe that I have loved her the longest.
Kendra Marie Henderson: September 7, 2003
