Yesterday afternoon I was waiting for my son at the orthodontist when I got my dad’s email telling me that they had put my grandma in hospice care. She’s no longer eating, can’t keep anything down, can’t leave her bed, is in extreme pain. I cried all the way home and continued off and on throughout the day.

To be honest, I didn’t expect this continual sadness: I knew this was coming ever since she got the stomach cancer diagnosis last December, and she’s 95, for crying out loud. How long did I expect her to live, cancer or not? She seemed fine when she was at my parents’ house in June—she shuffled around, giving my 2 year old rides on her walker. She sat next to us at dinner and laughed at random comments. She smiled a lot and said, “Oh, I can’t complain” when I asked how she was doing. I will miss her quiet laugh, her positive attitude, her individual attention, and the steady press of her hand when I sit next to her.

But more than that, she is my last living grandparent, the last living reminder and carrier of happy childhood memories, the last reason for me to drive through the farmlands of Idaho. This is significant to me. It has a finality about it that I can’t describe.

I spent last night trying to finish this painting (and not quite succeeding!). I began the painting months ago and with the business of life have never taken the time to complete it. I titled the painting “Roots and Branches” because to me, it signifies family, branches reaching up beyond sight, roots twisting down beyond sight, both carrying equal weight. I turn 40 next month, and suddenly I feel as though I truly am entering “middle age,” the trunk of the tree where I have a clearer perspective of those roots in my life who have passed beyond but whose souls and mortal lives have anchored my own, and of the sprouting and developing branches, my own children and my nieces and nephews with their new energy and hope, continuing on. And there’s the fruit, the promise of eternal life, that glows so prominently and is attached securely to the idea and image of the family.

So I will finish this painting in the next few days and as I paint, I will pray for my Grandma, whose soul is about to move beyond sight and meet in a glorious reunion with so many whose lives and legacies still support my own. I will give thanks for the strength of my family roots and the burgeoning of my family branches and the plan and person who made these connections and this promised fruit possible.