beauté dans la mort

Depending on one’s beliefs, the true beauty in death is the end of suffering.  While anyone who knows me, knows that I have always been one to find the macabre and dark themes beautiful, I have more personal reasons to do so now.

At approximately 1 am, on the 24th day of March, my Grandmother passed from this world into another.  Her beliefs were vastly different than mine – but even by her own standards, she had no reason to fear death.  On the contrary, life had become a cumbersome burden of pain and morphine.  She could not speak, could not breathe, and was in no way herself.  I was with her the day before she died and was lucky enough to have said goodbye.  She was coherent – though she could not speak… a fact that almost made it worse.  Still, mourning is not for the spirit of the dead as much as for the living left behind.  My last words to a grandmother that I was very close to were “I love you” and she squeezed my hands.  While many in my family are left crushed by this tragedy – I am at peace.  She is at peace and her well being is more important than my own.

Still… it is odd to think that I live in a world that does not still hold her in it.

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