I'm in it. It has shifted from a foreshadowing to the reality. Next week, dual surgery on the intestines and bladder. I'm in a space between frenetic energies and allowing. Some small intersection between these points calls to me. I hear Grandma's voice. I feel her gentle hand on my face. She always tried to tickle me.

Memories become treasures.

Last year, grandma told me she was ready to go. That difficult conversation became a platform for depth and immense feeling.  I heard her and received her. She has lived her life. She challenged me, asking, "are you ready to die?" I hesitated. I feel like there is more to do, that there are things in life I must change. "Get to living and make peace with your death," she insisted.

Fear and I danced together. We held hands and celebrated the gravity of the inevitable. It some moments, the fear lead and in newer moments, I opened my eyes and closed myself off from aversion. I stepped forward and led with fear in hand. We danced.

And here in a moment where no song plays, I note no anthem or hymn. It's a sacred silence. It's the space between phone calls. It's the trusting in the hands of two surgeons. It's knowing that I am not alone. It's knowing that from expectant to freshman, I've become entrenched.