"The song is ended, but the melody lingers on." -Irving Berlin
The one thing that has remained constant over my tenure here on earth, is my relationship with my grandmother.
Seasons change.
Climates change.
Time changes.
BUT our hearts NEVER skipped a beat. We never lost connection. Our records never scratched. Her vocals planted a "lifetime right" of poetic muse in the depths of my soul so strong that I can't help but hear the melody continually play on.
As I cling to her bedside watching for any sign of consciousness, her unresponsive eyelids has my spirit a little "unsettled." Every breath sounds like a struggle. I look for hope for an extended stay, but I see her frail, physical body wrapped in a spiritual cocoon of protection. She's above us now.
I know (without a shadow of doubt) that she has faithfully served with all she had.
I know that she has executed her race wholeheartedly with grace.
I know that she is patiently anticipating her crown.
I hear the nearby trumpets sounding the alarm to "call her home."
My peace is overwhelmed by the melancholy of indecision. Did our family fulfill the mission of her legacy of servanthood? Did we "advocate" for her well-being? Did we faithfully return to her (the fullness of life) that she breathed into our lungs?
There is no IV bag present.
There is no feeding tube.
There is no trace of preventative care measures.
I pray that she is NOT suffering.
I pray that she is resting well.
I pray mostly that we have not given up too soon.
Edgar Allan Poe said, "The boundaries which divide life from death are at best showy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"
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