Life and Death

Granny passed away last night at 11:43. She's been unwell for over six months, ever since a hip surgery that she never healed from. She hung on until they brought her back to her beautiful home, filled with antiques, and memories, and echoes of children's laughter. She married my Granddaddy when she was just seventeen. They were together for nearly three-quarters of a century. And my Granddaddy loved her beyond reason. I should have been crying over her passing, but the tears on my cheeks were for me, not her. Because all I could think was no one will ever love me like that.

She is watching over me, and I am glad to have someone so fierce on my side. I will miss her pretty handmade smocked dresses, her sewing room, her black heels, her red-painted lips. I will miss her determination, her spunk. I will miss her until I can see her again.

Death is everything they say he is,

Unfeeling and unforgiving, the stealer of souls.

I saw him, standing in the corner her room,

Head down like the rest of us, silent, still.

Her husband of seventy years, spoke softly to her,

Of a shared life, the gift of children, and the pleasure of her company.

It was selfish, but I cried because no one would ever love me

Like he loved her, unconditionally, consumed by her for eternity.

I held her frail, colorless hand. Her nails were painted pink.

I kissed her cheek before they took her away.

It was like kissing frozen concrete.

She was gone, and yet everything still smelled of her.

They’ll come soon, with casseroles and condolences,

Not knowing what to say to make it better.

Then we’ll put her in the ground, beneath the earth.

We will not forget her because she is in us all.

Life is everything they say it is, cruel, hard, unforgiving.

But I can hear her urging me on, whispering,

“Don’t be silent, darling. Don’t be still. Be brave.

Fight for what you want. Live.”