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