My grandma Mary Pat Anderson lived into her 98th year and returned to her Lord on the great feast of All Souls’ Day.

Her life was punctuated by a long, fruitful marriage, a lively home, a legacy of children and grandchildren, and a remarkable devotion to prayer, service, philanthropy and joy.

Married to my grandpa for 54 years, their union reflected their love and self-sacrifice. During their years of wedded bliss, the couple raised 14 children together. Later, their love multiplied even more, welcoming 55 grandchildren into the fold — one to bless each year of marriage they’d come to share, and another on top of that, because God is never outdone in generosity!

Though she was a “stay-at-home-mom” committed to lovingly raising her children, Grandma was hardly confined to the home. Her social calendar was bursting, and she often participated in community and parish events and spent time reading great literature and seeing live shows. Each morning, she made her way to Mass, and each evening, dinner was on the table promptly at 6 p.m. There was nary a moment wasted!

Full of energy for most of her years, it wasn’t until the tail end of her life that Grandma began to slow, with much of the decline due to the scourge of dementia. During these years, Grandma lived peacefully, lovingly cared for by family. As I saw my grandma “wither” by the world’s standards, I was moved by how much she was contributing, through her very humanity.

In her final days, Grandma didn’t know my name anymore. She didn’t write to me or host Easter. We couldn’t take walks together through nature or an art museum, appreciating every lovely detail, as we had before.

Some people in Western culture might say that in those last years, her life was as good as over. But anyone who had the opportunity to truly encounter Grandma would see how false this notion is.

Until the end, Grandma delighted in the little things in her own sweet way, being thrilled by a beautiful day, a tasty dinner, or a sign of affection. Her life, in God’s hands and being lived in his time, was still bearing fruit. Those family members who took care of her echo this in their reflections about time spent with Grandma, affirming how deeply alive she was and how her life and dignity were not determined by her ability to hold a conversation or return a favor, but, rather, in her very body and soul.

We live in a world where the elderly and infirm are often cast aside and euthanasia and assisted suicide are carried out — very much contrary to the Church’s view of and respect for the dignity of human life from the moment of conception until natural death.

My grandma’s life — and death — was a stark contradiction to the empty views of the broken world and, instead, was a beautiful reflection of God’s mercy and goodness for all the days of our lives.