A Palimpsest of Soul and Skin

It just hit me: in the last year—if not longer—I'd have a daily sense of anticipation and anxiety that I'd receive a phone call from my mom saying that something had happened to Granny—that she'd taken sick or died. I carried that fear around for a long time. In fact, I think I've carried that fear around for decades. It became a habitual thing, that anticipatory grief. I just had that old sensation once again, like feeling around for a tooth that I used to wiggle, but finding only space. It's very disorienting. Anticipatory grief has done me no good; I certainly don't feel more prepared for this loss, and it only stretched out the sadness over the years.

Like a constant hum, insistent, hard to tune out:  gone she's gone she's gone

Remember, my darlings,  The memories we shared Gathered like treasures Throughout the years Think of our laughter, our visits, The times we embraced. I'll be there in spirit When you make a hot cup of tea.  Life is fleeting and precious With love carrying us through; Despite the loss and the pain Love will bring us together again.

Room B530 The beeping of machines and the dripping of morphine are somehow synchronized to the rhythm of your soft breathing and the beat of my breaking heart.