not yet

i have the wreath on my door, and a garland on my bookshelf. any more would be tempting the cat beyond his capacity for resistance. i can't feel it, though. not yet. and part of me wonders if i will find it this year. multiple predictions abound for my grandmother's staying power. she personally feels it's her last christmas. she almost didn't decorate this year. i admire her - she deals with the riotous behavior of her children with dignity. always with dignity, and i think when she does in fact die, she will leave as a lady leaves. quietly and with grace. no, i will not ask that she "rage, rage against the dying of the light."

there's a space before acceptance that's more like acquiescence. even then, the reluctant soul shivers. like inching your way into cold water. or like a roux. you have to temper your soul before submitting fully. otherwise, your soul clots and clumps, or scalds and is ruined.

i think the difference this time is that i have the time to temper - to allow myself to release rather than having her wrenched from my hands suddenly. it's a different process - longer, but probably more healthier. all other deaths have slammed me, suddenly, like a massive wave when my back was turned.

the time tables keep tipping. months, maybe a year. back to months.

as good as it feels right now to have the scaffold of the medicine, i know i'm losing some of myself to it. i know the lightness isn't really a natural shift within me; rather, it's a stop-loss. ironic term. suffice it to say, i feel fake.

better than drowning, though.