grieving

       I remember a story very well. It was about a surgeon who did a heart operation, I cannot remember if it succeeded or not. I think it did not. And, he went home that night, his wife already asleep - and placed his ear on her chest, and just listened.

     One of my favourite things to do was to wake up every morning and go to my parent's room. Sometimes, my mum will already be awake and I would kiss her good morning. If she wasn't, I would watch, silently, to see her chest rise and fall. Then, I would quietly say I love you and leave.

   During the night shifts at the hospital, I would also watch quietly as she slept. Just to make sure she was still breathing.

    In my worser moments, that is all I can think of - there are no more breaths. In my better moments, I think (and know) she is at peace, free from all suffering and pain. That is what grieving is like for me. My worser and better moments always fighting inside of me.

    Not being able to know which it will be today. And, perhaps, sensing, it will always be like this.