Because I Could Not Stop For Death

When I was in high school, I took an AP English class. This course was entirely online, and because of this, I would call my grandma to talk about the works that I was reading. One Sunday, on my weekly phone call with her, we were talking about a poem that I had recently read. The poem is titled “Because I Could Not Stop for Death,” by Emily Dickinson. I would like to read the poem. It goes:

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –

The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –

During this discussion, I learned two very important things. The first was my grandma’s thoughts on death. I asked her “Grandma, what do you think dying is like? Do you think it is as peaceful as Dickinson makes it out to be?” To which she replied, “I think it is. I think that when you die, you are greeted by your loved ones and it is a joyous reunion. I think it is also very peaceful.”

The second thing that I took away, was when we talked about the personification of death, and in turn that lead us to Christ. I replaced the first stanza to make it sound something like this:

Because I could not stop for Christ –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

My grandma and I discussed how death is a peaceful event because of the savior. We talked about how his sacrifice makes death not scary and adds the element of peace. This, of course, wasn’t the first time that my grandma had made mention of this. The very first time I really started asking about heaven and what happens when you die was when my papa died. At my baptism, my grandma and I were sitting in the bed that she was staying in, and I asked her if she thought Papa had gone to heaven and what that means to her.

We had a really beautiful conversation about how our loved ones are always with us, and that heaven is a place of peace. I have held on to this knowledge that I gained from my grandma because it has given me a sense of peace around trials, and life.

When my grandma passed away, I didn’t feel sad or angry. I felt at peace. Actually, I felt my papa. I felt him in their living room with Kenzie and me. I know he was there because he let me know that it was okay and that she would be at peace. So, in true fashion, I walked outside to the porch and started blowing bubbles. While I was blowing bubbles, I was thinking about my time with my grandma.

I thought about how I used to walk to her classroom after school, and hide in her office and eat snacks. She always had the best snacks. I thought about how I would call her every Sunday growing up and we would talk for hours. I thought about how every dream I had, had a place for her. I thought about how whenever I would have a bad day at school or whenever some kid said something mean, I would call her. She would always have the perfect thing to say, and would always tell me how much she loved me just the way I was.

My grandma was the only person in my whole life that has always loved me unconditionally for who I am. She never once told me that I needed to change. She never once told me that I needed to be more of a boy or that my interests were girly or feminine. She never once told me that my dreams were too big or that I needed to be realistic. She was, and always will be my number one fan, and my biggest supporter. Whenever, I would think less of myself she would say “Chadd Wyaitt, don’t you dare think like that.” Every conversation had a “I am so proud of you, and an I love you so so much.” I could always count on a weekly text from her with these words.

On the step of her front porch, I thought about all of these things, and then, I thought about the last time I saw her. Three weeks ago, I came down to spend the weekend with her. I am so thankful that I came down for that.

We spent the whole weekend laying around her living room, talking and watching NCIS. We laughed about how I couldn’t figure out bra sizes at work, and she wondered why they had a boy working in bras. She told me about how she needs to stay around for much longer because she has a lot of trouble left to cause. She told me that she was really loving Anti-hero by Taylor Swift. Finally, we talked about her lilacs.

I know I keep bringing up these damn lilacs, but our last in-person conversation was in regard to these lilacs. The conversations went like this:

“Grandma, your lilacs haven’t bloomed yet.”

“Oh I know, this has been the never-ending winter. I’m not sure if they’re going to bloom this year.”

“Oh, I hope they bloom. I love lilacs.”

“Me too. I hope they bloom too.”

“Okay Grandma, when you’re lilacs bloom, I’ll come back and we can sit outside and blow bubbles.”

“I would love that!”

She then proceeded to give me a very big hug which she squeezed extra tight. Ending with an I love you so so much. Now, the lilacs are blooming, but she isn’t here. She should be here.

I know that when my grandma passed, it was just like she explained it to me. Her loved ones came and got her, and it was a peaceful, joyous reunion. I know that my savior died so that death can be a peaceful thing for each and every one of us. I know that families are eternal. I felt that the first time that I did sealings, and I get that same feeling every time I look at a temple. I know that because of the atonement, this is a simple see you when I see you. I know that Grandma is up there right now, waiting for me so that we can sit and look at the lilacs.

While it makes it easier to find peace in the every day, I still miss her. I still smell her perfume and remember what it was like to hug her. I see her in flowers on the street, and I strive to emulate all of her good attributes because that is all I have left. I have memories and the hope that there are lilacs in heaven waiting for us.