"The warrior's approach is to say "yes" to life: 'yea' to it all."
-- Joseph Campbell
I saw my grandmother today. I hadnt been back to see her for three years, and from all accounts she was only in and out of this reality during that time. When we arrived, she was lying there, going, hrruh! Hrruh! Hrruh! At first I thought she was trying to speak, and held her right hand; my brother stood across from me, holding her left. Eventually, she subsided and relaxed. Her mouth opened and closed like she was chewing, and never stopped.
I sat for a while, kind of looking for her with my spirit, but I dont know. I thought I could go touch her, wherever she was, but . . . I really dont know. Eventually, she said something that I think was hi, and she reached for my hand when I took it away. I think she smiled.
I leaned down and I kissed her head, gently, like you do with a new baby. I told her that her family was here, and we were all happy and safe. I told her that it was time for her to die, and that it was okay. I told her that wed see her again soon enough. I told her to go to God.
I dont know if she heard me, shes been alive far too long already. She was the most powerful spirit in my childhood; not exactly a warm woman, rather a hard child of the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. She fought and she was tenacious. She still is. Now she is just tiny, withered and thin; I could tear her skin with a rough touch. She cannot drink water, it would kill her.
She has no presence, she commands no fear, she gives nothing.
Id hoped, secretly, that she would die right then, there with her daughter and her grandchildren holding on to her. I wanted to watch her go into the great peace and I wanted mine to be the last kiss she ever had. For all I know it may still be; nobody kisses old ladies.
Barring some unforeseen event, the next time I see her she will be dead.
I hope a lot of things. I hope she heard me, I hope she knows I was there. I hope that she comes back as my grandkid so I can terrorize her ass when she's growing up. I desperately hope she dies knowing that in the end it isn't about all the things you don't have or haven't done. Mostly I hope that she knows that it's really easy to forgive such a small, frail thing.
-- Joseph Campbell
I saw my grandmother today. I hadnt been back to see her for three years, and from all accounts she was only in and out of this reality during that time. When we arrived, she was lying there, going, hrruh! Hrruh! Hrruh! At first I thought she was trying to speak, and held her right hand; my brother stood across from me, holding her left. Eventually, she subsided and relaxed. Her mouth opened and closed like she was chewing, and never stopped.
I sat for a while, kind of looking for her with my spirit, but I dont know. I thought I could go touch her, wherever she was, but . . . I really dont know. Eventually, she said something that I think was hi, and she reached for my hand when I took it away. I think she smiled.
I leaned down and I kissed her head, gently, like you do with a new baby. I told her that her family was here, and we were all happy and safe. I told her that it was time for her to die, and that it was okay. I told her that wed see her again soon enough. I told her to go to God.
I dont know if she heard me, shes been alive far too long already. She was the most powerful spirit in my childhood; not exactly a warm woman, rather a hard child of the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. She fought and she was tenacious. She still is. Now she is just tiny, withered and thin; I could tear her skin with a rough touch. She cannot drink water, it would kill her.
She has no presence, she commands no fear, she gives nothing.
Id hoped, secretly, that she would die right then, there with her daughter and her grandchildren holding on to her. I wanted to watch her go into the great peace and I wanted mine to be the last kiss she ever had. For all I know it may still be; nobody kisses old ladies.
Barring some unforeseen event, the next time I see her she will be dead.
I hope a lot of things. I hope she heard me, I hope she knows I was there. I hope that she comes back as my grandkid so I can terrorize her ass when she's growing up. I desperately hope she dies knowing that in the end it isn't about all the things you don't have or haven't done. Mostly I hope that she knows that it's really easy to forgive such a small, frail thing.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
that's what happens when the pisces/cancer/cancer and the scorpio/pisces/scorpio spend time together. the shared unconcious rises up in a wave and pushes this towards that. here you go, you lonely mortals!
man. i love it.
are you familiar with yoshimi battles the pink robots? i just read your e-mail while the player decided to provide In the Morning of The Magicians as soundtrack. magicians we be.