Found In Being

I feel my grandmother close to me today. Her acceptance of where she is and her calm as she sits alone at the end of her life. The simple task of doing the laundry, the meaning of life itself. My brain is very foggy today, but I feel close to the quiet still miracle of life. I feel close to those times of my childhood where I felt and believed in the magic of it all. I have been reflecting this week if I am ready to go. I wonder if I have lived my purpose, if I have seen and done it all. I would have lived grandly and monumentally when I think of being ready at the end. But when I get still and quiet, my soul seems to be urging me to realize that life is lived in the quiet and the ordinary, in the laundry.

I sit next to my grandmother and we don’t say much. I originally tried to fill the silence with questions in an attempt to get to know her better. She was more than willing to answer those questions, as long as she wore her hearing aid to hear them. But mostly she doesn’t wear her aids and I got comfortable with the silence. We would, both of us, be still watching the broad expanse of sky and trees outside her huge windows. I can’t say I was lost in thought during those times. I was found in being still, found in being, found in being in quiet with her. This is the largeness of my love for her - the largeness of simply being.