This morning my Dad called me around 8 am to tell me that my grandma had passed. It was a bit bittersweet; I obviously knew it was coming and I am so happy to know that my grandparents are back together after so long, but it's lonely to think that when general conference weekend comes around, neither one of them will be there to spend the afternoon with. No more discussions about what we learned over the last two days, no card games to be had after dinner and dessert. But I am alright; I know I will see them again and they will always be watching over me. This is the last gift my grandma gave to me—she wanted all of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren to choose a book from the small library of church books that she and my grandpa built together. Temples On The Most High compiled by N. B. Lundwall; the inside cover reads: "1968, Nola W. Duncan, Route #2 Box 100-H, Idaho Falls, Idaho" in my grandma's handwriting.

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