"I had a dream last night, I was up on
the ceiling looking down on myself."
She spoke with labored breath, with sincere confusion of what
this meant for herself.
She looked at me with big, wide, watery eyes.
A look of yearning, pleading, sadness, clouded thought.
I took her hand, scarred and wrapped, from
the nurse. I held it firmly and said, "This is a good dream,
grandma, this is a dream that you are free."
She still choose not to see what I could see
Her limbs had stopped participating in life-her moment to die
was awaiting her.
She clung with desperation, anxiety, fear,
She spoke of not being ready yet.
She was angry. She resisted.
I could only watch and hold her withered hand.
I could only tell her how I love
her and how we will be together forever.
When the call came 2 days later that she had
passed over, I sobbed hot tears.
My heart broke, my
I saw a glow over her bed.
I saw her beingness,
her Soul, her beauty
ascend in a stream of light towards it.
I held this awareness for her.
She was serene, lovely, perfect in her formlessness.
I longed for her to be here on earth and watch my children grow.
I delighted in her newfound freedom.
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