I don’t think there is a more perfect statement than this: “An abyss I could not conceive until I experienced it.” Experience is a strange thing…sometimes you wait for it to happen, other times you are sure, without a doubt that it will never happen, and then there’s that moment when you know it’s happening–and that, I’ve learned is the experience of death, of losing someone who you thought would always be there, even though you know that’s the way life is, everyone dies, and then the process of going through it, which lasts for the rest of your life…

Ms. Neff, you’ve heard this before, on my end–the grieving, the prayers, “the reconciling the way things ought to be with the way things are.” (Don Henley), the hard work that death begets. And it’s hard. Your thoughts reveal that…I relate to the “unraveling” and the fact that you felt your mother was “preparing you for…something.” I believe too, ironically, in the previously deceased breathing life into the situation, breathing life into death… the fact that they are present in the hospital, by the bedside, is a comfort and still is. I think of it often.

I relate to the haunting you felt. I recognized it when I read it. And it always comes in the form of words, spoken or not. When my grandmother was in the hospital, towards the end, my mother brought my sister and I in the waiting room before entering her room. She sat us down, “I don’t want your grandmother to know how bad it is, don’t tell her…don’t tell her she’s dying.” When we finally saw my grandmother that day, I held her hand, arthritic and wrinkly, like I always remembered it. The oxygen mask was pushing air into her so forcefully that her cheeks flapped, she had a hard time talking. I looked at her and cried and tried so much to talk with my eyes than my mouth. I don’t know if I conveyed that…”you’re dying and you have to hold on, please,” but I regret not saying it out loud. When I look back I realize I wanted to hear myself say it, maybe so I wouldn’t regret it later. That was the last day she was awake, and the beginning of the end, so to speak.

You have my utmost respect. When I read your words I am enlightened, no matter what the subject. Death, losing my grandmother, just happens to be a subject I refer back to more often than any other, as I should, as you should. If “we are all present in reality” then there must be something always preparing us for something. It just so happens that that something can be anything…so thank you for this post, another lesson taught and learned. I do hope you finish it.

I know it must be difficult, and I hope it facilitates whatever healing you need. In any case, I am sure that many who might read it could get healing from it.

Thanks for sharing this.

Your friend.

Don’t forget that your friends are there to help. We don’t have to go through things by ourselves.

You have inspired me again. I have avoided my gym for a week, but after reading this, is will do it.

Thank!

Keep it up.

Your friend.