I had a glimpse of heaven today. Or at least I thought it was heaven. The bright, blinding lights left me perplexed. The warmth I felt enticed me. It was a wondrous feeling… Until I woke up. And then all the memories came flooding back.
I don’t know what to think of death. I mean, I’ve had interactions with death, but we’ve never spoken, we’ve never had a conversation, only fleeting moments. It seems as though death has favoured others over me and sometimes I wish she wouldn’t.
My grandma died. Sometime in May. Life had never felt so surreal. I recall arriving home and seeing my mother sat on her bed, with the white and black duvet and pillow laid out in an odd way, as if someone had spent hours trying to make the bed but unsure as to how to do so. As my mother gave me a strained smile, her light-brown eyes telling a different story, I sat next to her and waited for her to open up to me. I had messaged my brother asking him how things at home were the day before. That was when I heard. Instead of asking her how she felt and all the following patronising questions people often ask, I waited for her to feel comfortable enough to talk to me. It was heartbreaking to see her struggle between trying keep an air of happiness in front of her children but also accept the fact that her mother, my grandmother, had passed. Continue reading