Musashi Mix Inq

On Thestral Wings

Posted on December 29, 2010

1921-2008

Grandma,

I miss you —

Those hands that held me tight and crafted hundreds of agezushi, played cards and taught me to cook, rubbed my stomach when it hurt and wiped tears from my eyes. Those hands that picked flowers in the dust-bowl sun and found hope in the desert that no barbed-wire could contain. The hands that held this family together for generations and taught me what it means to live a good life.

You were there when I graduated college and blessed me on my wedding day. You have always been my wings. When I miss you, I only have to lie down and dream - I fetch you your green tea and your smile shines bright enough that I awaken and call for you in the dark...

Ξ

Grandma

Forever, a piece of me will be sitting on your couch two years ago, holding your hand. Three gerations frozen in a moment beyond the bounds of time. We counted breaths and stroked your hair. Like Daruma, you sat and faded. You asked us where your mother was and I knew you would be with her soon.

We dropped you more morphine and removed the oxygen. Mercy is no longer just a word to me. Dignity is as firm as marble.

Palliativity, the culling tide.

On Sundays, I burn incence bright and place fruit and flowers on the alter. I ring the singing bowl and with hands together retrace the steps you made to honor those who came before and pray for the generations to follow.

Amen.

Love,
David-chan

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