existence

lived, liv·ing, lives.

To be alive; exist.

To continue to be alive

To support oneself; subsist

To reside; dwell

To conduct one's life in a particular manner

To pursue a positive, satisfying existence; enjoy life: those who truly live.

This idea of “living” has been heavy on my heart the last few weeks. My grandma passed fifteen days ago, though much of that is still a blur. And much of me is still numb to the aftermath. It was in watching her body enter into a new life though, that my own life became something to think about, to meditate on, to commit myself to.

It’s a wonder how many times we start living just to fall back into the habit of existing. It’s so much easier, safer, to follow the path of our consistencies. So much harder to step off that path and breathe. There are two things my grandmothers had in common, two things that set them apart from most women in my life. The first, was their love. It was whole, and pure, and never failing. They loved with everything they had inside of their beautiful souls. The second, was that no matter the circumstance they found themselves in, they lived. Lived wholly, purely, and without fail.

I watched as both my grandmothers lives faded away, accompanied by a pain that can’t be described. I saw the life fade from their eyes, the splendor fade from their smiles. And as much as it brought pain to my own life, it brought peace too. For whatever burden they left behind as they entered the gates of heaven, I knew, that every day of their lives was spent with love and living.

I’ve come to an interesting place on my own path. Reminded now how easily I slip back into existence when there is so much left to live for. I’m reminded of their strength, their beauty, and their love. And in the wake of their passing I am filled with all the love they left behind. Made full by the tenderness of their hearts and made strong by the intensity of their character. I am driven now, more than ever, to pursue a satisfying existence, to enjoy life…and truly live.

To both my grandmothers, may my life be a legacy to the love and the strength you filled my soul with. And may you look down upon me with pride and know that it is your strength that has shaped my life. I love you both, Thelma and Marie. May you both rest in Peace.

live.

Nothing can prepare you for the moment a loved one takes their last breath. No hospice book or endless amount of advice can show you what it’s going to feel like when that person is gone. The sting of sorrow that I feel is counteracted by the relief that she’s no longer in pain.

I dreamt of her just a couple hours after she left us. Cheeky little thing she was I imagine it was her doing. One final gift, to erase my last image of her lifeless in a hospital bed. She said goodbye to me, kissed me on the cheek and told me she loved me. And it was my grandma, in all her glory-- bright red hair, bright red nails, and that beautiful lipstick she always wore. Her shining eyes telling me she was ready, and she was happy. It was all the gift I needed.

Sitting here now on the floor of my room, next to an empty hospital bed, I find some sense of solace. She is at peace. Her body in its perfect state, her mind awash with newness. And I can look forward and know we’ll be okay. We’ll feel the tinge of sadness at her absence in plenty of milestones to come. But we’ll find a way to keep her memory alive. Be it in a name, an action, or some silly story. We are her legacy, and there is no way, as long as we’re alive, that we’ll ever forget her.

Rest in peace, Grandma. We love you more than words can say.