I spent a little time with my dying grandmother today who has such a worldy peace about her that I was comforted by her acceptance, even impending excitement about her next steps. We spoke of roses and gardenias, guardian angels and the the colour of the sea in comparison to my aquamarine earrings. Gandalf commented that she looked like a little girl in her pink cotton and lace nightie. I heartily agreed through my selfish tears. She knows and I knew and love connected us all as we sat on her bed.
I wept for when she gave us her small gifts that she showered me with as a child and how both my children have been blessed with receiving these also. I wept for her drawing faces on my boiled eggs, the cups of cocoa in a cup and saucer. Her tiny packets of pencils and colouring books, the minature packets of Smarties and Furry Friends.
The family bible with its many, many generation of our familes birthdays, weddings and deaths recorded will soon show the end of life on this plane. She will live in our hearts and in our memories and I am honoured and filled with joy and thanks for her honest and above all pure life.
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