Grief and a bookshelf

On my bookshelf in the corner just out of view. Sits the ashes of both my dead parents. It is a timely reminder of grief. Named glass is home for one, I don’t know what to do with it or the glass. Other sits in a small box, housed within a heart. Every time I dust, I have to imagine it is something else. 

I try not to dwell on their deaths. One day hopefully I can talk to them once more. I do want to move on and close that chapter.  I have changed my mind about assisted dying and now support it. Experience watching terminal illness, no help with the suffering. The last 48 hours are horrible memories, watching people fade. The final moments are painful memories. Healthcare workers deserve so much respect. Nurses are angels that frankly deserve better pay and conditions. For this reason, I support the striking nurses. 

Not going to share the details because I don’t want the final moments to define it. Any anniversary for me is another day. I don’t see the point in remembering worse moments in life. I can clearly remember everything. How the weather was, brightness of the lighting. Hate to admit but I find grief hard to deal with. I got better but don’t feel right still. I keep meaning to get therapy but I don’t want to wait. Not even sure how much I need.  

Christmas offers a reflection what you have and to be thankful for. May not be here but love remains.