Love has none.

Grief ramblings, week 3:

Intuition is a damned thing. It shrieks out in a massive vat of all other complicated feelings and experiences.

Intuition. Hah!

When my dad first started getting sick last year, I knew that it was going to be the end. I knew back in mid 2020 that he wouldn’t see 2022. There was no “probably” about it. I have the diary entries to back up my gnawing knowing.

I’m sure he knew back then too.

I had family members that didn’t see it. I can understand denial/hope but it got on my nerves.

Everything about the situation is tragic and awful and unsavory.

I’ve barely cried. As well as I know myself, this still surprises me.

I constantly wonder how much my severely autistic brother understands about death. Obviously he must have figured out by now that some people leave and don’t come back.

But what is this new life to him?

So I’m doing some light reading tonight from this Anne Sexton CLASSIC - “Live or Die.”

“I look for uncomplicated hymns but love has none.” Hah!!

Death - the price of live. Grief - the price of love.

And so I am wading into the new waters of my indefinite forever. ❤️ Don’t blink, kids.