My grandmother died Tuesday night at 93 years old. And as I watched her take her last breath, I realized that being there surrounded by my mother and aunts I felt peaceful. I was of course sad that my grandmother was dead, but I was also happy for her. The last few years have been hard on her. She systematically lost her ability to walk, see, and hear while maintaining her mind (except for a few occasions). Imprisoned in a broken body. She was finally free.
In her final moments she was surrounded by the women who loved her, the women she had grown in her belly and raised to be strong. They in turn have shaped who I am as a person. In that moment, I felt no need for male energy. It would have been an intrusion into our estrogen rich space.
She had a date with my grandfather...a date she had waited for for 22 years, and finally, she would be showing up.
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