Dying is easy; it’s living that’s the challenge.
My grandmother died tonight, around 11 PM. 94 years old, she finally succumbed to the strokes that left her unable to communicate for the past four years. As I understand, she slipped quietly away, from sick to coma to dead. She went peacefully, and hopefully without pain.
Her husband died in 1968 or 1969, and she never remarried. I wonder why… Was she okay alone? Was she unable to love again, afraid to lose or maybe satisfied that she had loved enough for a life?
I don’t want to be lonely — I just want to be alone.