Tides, they turn.

My amazing grandfather passed away two weeks ago -- and although I wrote about him quickly in my last post, goodness, I am struggling more with his loss than I ever anticipated.

Two years ago... when I looked like this....

I thought about death everyday. I was constantly in and out of the hospital, received hourly in-patient fluids, medications, and had very little to no quality of life.  Death for me, was so close in some ways.  I had processed what would happen if I passed, how I wanted people to remember me.  I told everyone that I loved how much and deeply I cared for them, and I let those at the hospital those terrible weeks that we weren't sure what my body would do anymore that I wanted a DNR on my chart.  My body was too weak, I had accepted what was coming -- or what I thought was coming.  And mentally, I had let go.

I replay that moment in my mind every so often, and truly processed it with close friends and supports.  And realized the day that I finally told my body it was okay to let go, it took that energy and somehow started fighting back.  It taught me as a Type A person, that I really could not control anything anymore and even with all the mental preparation, the possibility of a funeral, and feeling as though I could touch the end, somehow I am here today.

But for so long in the beginning of my journey, I was at the edge of that cliff.  Not knowing what treatment or how far my disease would progress to send me off and beyond.  Now, as I distance myself further and further from these moments, somehow.... Death has become scarier and grief has become different.  It is so hard to swallow, but as I look back on the last two weeks and how much my grandfather's death has affected me I realize I am no where close to the edge of that cliff, and because I'm no longer there anymore I now see that other people are walking closer, and it is in fact more painful than being there myself.

It felt easier somehow, easier and more secure and controllable if I was that person.  I was the one potentially leaving, I experienced glimmers of being in and out of consciousness, it was me.   As tides turn in our lives I realize only now that my grief and sense of death has drastically changed.

Never, do I wish for anyone to feel what I felt during those days two years ago.  But, never do I wish the deep pain of loss for those feeling healthy, knowing there might not be a reconnection with those lost in the near future.  I am grateful, but I am pained over what lenses I was staring through not too long ago and and over those that I am staring through now.

The tides have turned, and once again I learn to let go... to let go of the control, I so wish I still had.
And I'm sure the control, we all wish we had when it comes to losing a loved one.

Sending love and light to you and all of your loved ones,

B.

Pop, relaxing with me in the sunshine during his last days..