This Must Be What They Call The Ocean

It was the summer of 1994 and I had been reassigned to the Huntsville area with my job. Granny (Bertie Mae) and I had never been separated. In fact she had lived directly behind my parents for the entire 22 years of my exhistance. We talked on the phone every single night and I ventured home every off day. Finally she asked me to take her to Huntsville with me for a short visit. "I just want to see where you sit on the couch when we talk on the phone," she explained. "It will me make me feel better if I can imagine you there when you call."

I picked her up in my small white pick-up and we headed north on US 431. As we approached the town of Guntersville I explained to her that we would be crossing a lot of water and she should not be nervous. As we crossed the large bridge over Lake Guntersville (The Tennessee River), her mouth dropped and she raised up in the seat. She gasped, "this must be what they call the ocean?" I laughed a little and then realized she was serious. I asked, "Granny, have you never seen the ocean?" She replied that she had never seen anything, travel had not been a part of her life.  In her younger days, cotton fields along highway 21 were all she saw.  She never had the means to travel. Immediately the wheels in my mind began to turn.

Two weeks later I drove her to Gulf Shores, Alabama. We stayed in a beautiful high rise hotel where all the rooms had a private balcony overlooking the beach. She couldn't tell what she was about to see when we drove in because the tall buildings along the strip blocked her view and her sight was already bad. My anxiety built like my tears are now as I write this. We rode the elevator up to our room on the 8th floor. I walked her out on the balcony and she literally stumbled backwards gasping at what she saw. She absolutely could not believe her eyes. We spent two days and nights on that balcony laughing and talking about things and enjoying God's most wonderful and beautiful creation.  Before we left, she said to me, "this is it, what I am going to imagine Heaven is like."

Nine years later,  at the age of ninety-four, in the wee hours of an October Tuesday morning, we reached the last few moments of her life. All the family was gathered around, but I was at the head of her bed craddling her in my arms. Just before she slipped away, I whispered "I will see you at the beach."......and I surely will.  I keep a picture of the two of us strolling on the beach hand in hand.  To me, that's what Heaven will be like; Granny and I strolling arm and arm along Heaven's shore.