My life feels grey, heavy, frightening...like there is a storm just about to break, a smell of ozone, impending darkness and I am uncertain of shelter. I find myself on the point of tears often. I don't know if it is because my Grandmother is gone or because the sharp reality of mortal existence has finally dawned on me. Tears roll, salty, down cheeks, blurring my vision and the world I see. Suddenly my willingness to accept the monotony of half living, silent suffering mediocrity and deeply buried truths, seems harder to bear. I, like a sodden dog heavily water logged with doubt, fear, thought and belief, want only the freeing sensation of a good shake- sending rivulets in all directions, until I am light again.
I miss her. My grandma. I miss the world she represents- warm naps in kind arms, dinners lovingly prepared without thought for what is "healthy", laughter, childhood and an unconditional love that beams from behind spectacles inches thick and bordered by grime and plastic.
I don't feel prepared for this world we live in. I never really have. I just keep moving forward one step at a time, with an eye on the horizon, watching for signs of rain.
I miss her. My grandma. I miss the world she represents- warm naps in kind arms, dinners lovingly prepared without thought for what is "healthy", laughter, childhood and an unconditional love that beams from behind spectacles inches thick and bordered by grime and plastic.
I don't feel prepared for this world we live in. I never really have. I just keep moving forward one step at a time, with an eye on the horizon, watching for signs of rain.
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