My first impression of the patient in room 22 was that she was tiny and lovely and had the most peaceful smile. Her son and daughter-in-law were there with her, and graciously welcomed my unexpected arrival in the room. When I told them what I do with words and art, the son told me his mother would relate to that because she was a writer. She nodded with wide-eyed sweetness. I love meeting other writers, so I asked what kind of writing she did. It turns out she doesn’t write
Grief begins with an ending. And with that ending, is a beginning we never asked for. We enter a dark tunnel of emotions in which the death of our loved one leaves us, and we grope for some sign of hope. That we’ll survive the pain. That our loved one’s spirit is ok. That there will be some way to live without them in our lives. That the God we believed in before didn’t cause this, either willfully or through neglect. The confusion, on top of everything else, is overwhelming.