“Aendi Anna!” the two older girls said in unison from where they still stood nearby.

Anna smiled back at the girls, aware of their fondness for her. She adored children and loved spending time with all of her nieces and nephews. Sometimes Wanita’s girls called her their favorite Aendi, which Anna tried to play down—they had plenty of other aunts in Conrad’s family to dote on them, too.

Wanita went to the toy chest at the far end of the kitchen and took out some plastic blocks and several little dolls and clothes, then placed them on the floor near the screen door. “Yous can play quietly for a while,” she said, telling Anna that the rest of the children were at VBS for the morning. “The oldest ones are helping out.”

Anna put Rogene down, and she toddled over to Bonnie and Bethie, who were now talking softly and rocking their dolls.

“Mammi’s in the next room,” Wanita added in a whisper. “Not having the best of mornings.”

Anna frowned, hoping her presence might make a difference. Sometimes it did; other times not. “I’ll try to cheer her up.”

Wanita nodded, her solemn expression indicating that might be a challenge, then headed back to the kitchen counter.

Having previously experienced a number of Mammi Eliza’s not-so-good mornings, Anna had no expectations for this visit. She just wanted to be with her, let her know she was dearly loved and always would be.

Entering the sitting room, Anna saw that Mammi’s reading glasses had slid down toward the point of her nose, and a magnifying glass lay on the small table next to her. She didn’t look up from her black leather Biewel when Anna gently touched her right hand, nor did she respond when Anna took a seat in the nearby chair. Without speaking, Anna observed Mammi’s wrinkled hands slowly turning the thin pages of her well-worn Biewel. Some pages were marked with homemade bookmarks from her children, grands, and greats, and a whole passage was underlined where the verses must have spoken to Mammi Eliza in a precious way.

Anna’s thoughts drifted back to the years when her grandmother was verbally expressive and even at times considered the life of the party, laughing and trading recipes, or engaging the great-grandchildren with her finger puppets made from scraps of leftover fabric. Always, Mammi Eliza had been the family encourager, as cheerful and bright as morning birdsong, and quick to share a Scripture verse that had touched her heart. Never had Anna dreamed that she and her family would lose their beloved matriarch to this dreaded disease.

Sometimes it could be difficult to see how much Mammi had changed, but every so often, Anna saw glimpses of that same lively person in the frail woman before her. “I’m happy to see you again, Mammi,” she said softly now. “The sun’s shining brightly . . . it’s another beautiful day.”