This was in response to my rather dispirited and tepid post Friday from one of my blog mentors, k~:
“The only rules I understand are those I choose to follow, those I choose to break, and those I choose to make.
Frustration is built when we are outside of the control tower and want to be inside. What if death were an open door to a vacation with a side dish of a promotion to another type of job? What if death was a positive transition, rather than a hellish nightmare?
My maternal grandmother sat down with me during the summer of my 12th year, while I was staying with her, and told me that she was going to die. My first response was shock. I told her she couldn’t tell me that, and that I didn’t want it to be true. She looked me in the eye, in a way I had never seen her do before and said, “I’ve earned my right to die, and I don’t want you crying for me, I will be in a much better place than you are now.” The conversation that followed led me through places in my mind and heart I never thought of treading. That was in August, in February she died. She changed my perspective on death, though it didn’t happen quickly. I learned to think of what comes next as a privileged, earned place, rather than a punishment. It is hardest on those left behind, and it is for that selfish longing to have them close that I shed my tears, then smile, as I begin to understand they are never very far away, if I have loved them even for a short while.”
The power of words.
I used mine to bring others down. She in turn then went ahead and used hers only to bring me up. Thanks k~.
I’m pretty sure I’ve used this song before. I don’t care, I’m using it again. Because it’s damned good, because k~’s right.