I am convinced that the one true constant in life is… death. We cannot escape it and, besides being born, it is the one thing we all have in common.
Knowing that, we should all be prepared and those left behind aught not be surprised or shocked when our time comes. Yet, death sneaks up on us all, whether we are newly born or one hundred years old. We seem to be able to deny the inevitable. That, I believe, is the strength of this thing we call ‘life’. It clouds the minds of we mere mortals and makes us believe we are invincible. We are not. We act like this body will live forever. It will not.
This week, I am standing by, watching two of my granddaughters deal with the slow death of their other grandmother. I am helpless to assist them in any real way. I can only offer my support and encouragement long distance, through calls and texts. Mostly, I listen. Sometimes, they just need to talk.
They are twenty-somethings, far too young to have to deal with this. Yet they are there, holding her hand, brushing her hair, talking to her, monitoring her vitals, asking questions of the doctors and staff, supporting their grandfather. Easing her passage. They are doing well. They are doing what is right.
I am proud of how they are handling a bad situation. I have often joked in the past that my granddaughters will be the ones to take care of me when I get old. It is no longer a joke and I know that, when that time comes, they will be there and that I will be in good hands.
https://bgibsonbooks.com/waiting-for-death/
