on the way

I spent last week in NM waiting in a hospital. I’m not very good at waiting.  I’m not patient and I don’t do well in confined and dreary spaces. My grandmother is terminally ill.  She’s lived a good life, she was happy and I don’t think she regretted a morsel of the life she has consumed.  It’s hard to imagine that someday soon, I will wake up and she will not be on this planet.

Frankly, there isn’t a simple way to address grief.  Every instinct I have tells me two things: death is normal, and the anticipation of the death of a loved one is painful.  It’s a different kind of pain.  A pain that is hard to label and even more difficult to understand because as someone said to me the other day-death is the only certainty in life.  However, that doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

Toni Morrison:

Birth, life, and death — each took place on the hidden side of a leaf.

 

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