Minutes, Hours, Days

I feel like I say goodbye to my grandmother again and again

in the brief moments where my mind forgets she's gone

and remembering brings another goodbye.

I think of her sitting on her favorite corner of her soft grey couch

on the phone with a girlfriend or watching British tv with

knitting needles moving in the hands that rocked my mother to sleep.

I remind myself what a gift it was to lose her in her old age

she had the privilege of a rich and full life and now I have the bounty

of memories that she left behind and a river of gratitude to carry them.

I wondered if knowing death more closely would make it less terrifying-

that maybe having someone so loved die would quell the evening bouts

of tossing and turning while trying to imagine what "nothing" feels like.

I learned that the intimacy of loss does not weaken the fear of dying

but instead that fear is dampened by my grandmother's reminder that fear means you have something to lose.