Feeling This.

My grandmother has outlived four of her five children.

We burried the last of four daughters today. The mass was traditional and sad. Not at all what a memorial should be. This passing, unlike previous passings in my chronologically condensed history of it all, was jarring news. Secrecy was sworn and cancer concealed. The gravity of this falls hard on my pillow when sleep persists.

My aunt fought long enough to meet her first grandson. I have a new cousin. He bit his 5 week old thumb at me.

Hollie asked for one of many small beaded bracelets I had on today, a good way to keep her occupied at the church. On the way out I turned around to see her and the friend she calls Greggie crouched across from each other in the double doorway. Little hands and big hands picking up a plethora of tiny white beads from the floor. My heart hugged me a little and I exhaled. I captured the image in my head before I walked over to help. A broken bracelet is nothing. Helping hands when the beads fall where they may means everything. Good deeds smile vicariously.


The new job is a colourful stepping stone of dedicated distraction.