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.