Grief. I try so hard to make sense of it. I’m sure you do as well.
What happens when we die? I know what I believe happens, but truly, do we know? I have a hope, I have my faith. I believe death isn’t a period, but a comma (attribution to Amos Traver).
When my Great-Grandmother (G.G.) passed away, regardless of my beliefs or faith, it crushed me. It is still a very tender place.
My Great-Grandmother raised me from the age of 5 to 14. She used to stay up all night with me when I couldn’t breathe due to asthma. She taught me manners and being kind to people was more important than anything else besides God. She raised me, even though she was in her 70’s at the time. I could go on and on, but not today…
Today, is the 4 year anniversary of her death. Today will probably be a bit of a…quiet day.
Death sucks. Understatement of the millennium. Grief is messy and terrible and lonely. I want to go to Heaven, but I don’t want to necessarily die to get there.
I wrestle with this: the afterlife, this present life, my faith, my feelings. Death is a mystery and there are more qualified people to talk about it than me.
I miss my family and friends that have passed away. I hate death. I know there is a time to mourn, and a time to dance. As much as I love dancing, I’m not there yet about G.G. Sure, I choose to think about the good memories, the times we talked and laughed. The time I tried to explain to her what the internet was (she was 94 at the time). The time I saw her get up and dance in November 2004 when the drummer at her church kicked a 7 minute drum solo.
But my heart still hurts. The hole is still there. Yet, I hear the whispers of a bass drum in the distance…
[photo by thinboyfatter]