My mother-in-law, Opal, spent the summer dying.

Of course, in a way, each of us did the same. It’s a truth every traveling evangelist I ever heard during my childhood proclaimed: “You are closer to eternity today than you were yesterday!” But Mom’s agent of death had a name: cancer. In August she was even given a timetable: 8-12 weeks.

Mom, a truly classy lady, was 82 years young. She lived alone in a huge old farm house. She cooked and cleaned and helped take care of her great-grandchildren. One of the things she loved best was mowing, and she continued to mow her own yard right up until this year—all eight acres of it! She was married for 58 years—to a handsome sailor she met in Louisville, Kentucky. They wed after knowing each other for less than a week!

This is the first “death experience” for my grandchildren. Only Drake (almost 6) and Brock (4) are old enough to sense the enormity of what has happened. When my daughter, Amy Jo, told them that Grandma Opal had died, that she was now in heaven with Jesus, it was Brock who had the most questions. “Is her house still there?” he asked. Amy assured him it was. “Why didn’t she take it with her?”

A good question, considering how very much Mom loved her home. “She won’t need it any more,” Amy answered.

Mom fought hard against her disease—cancer in the right sinus cavity. It was a vicious tumor that took over the right side of her face, a tumor that swelled and swelled until her eye was forced closed. It broke through the roof of her mouth and made eating even soft food painful. She withstood nine chemo treatments, hoping the tumor would shrink and the doctors would do surgery. It didn’t. Then came radiation. Nothing could slow the progress of the cancer. Throughout the ordeal, she clung to her family and her faith.

A month or so before she died, my husband and his siblings gathered around Mom to discuss whether or not to try radiation, to decide if she should go stay with her daughter in Tennessee. While the conversation whirled around her, Mom looked at me and said, “If this is what it feels like to die, I’m okay with it.” She laughed lightly then and said, “Feels like I’m going on vacation!”

Yesterday we buried Mom. Her grave is layers deep in flowers, a tribute to just how many people loved her. In John 14, Jesus tells us, “In my Father’s house are many mansions….” I’m sure that’s where Mom is now, reunited with Dad in some shining structure bordered by streets of gold.

I just hope it has a lawn to mow. Mom would really like that.