Keep Your Eyes Wide Open

This is the house where my grandmother will die.

We're not sure when, of course, but she's quickly nearing the end. Today might have been the last day I will see her.

She lay in her chair, as fragile and feeble as one could be.  Of course, she's never been anything but an old lady in my mind, but seeing her today made me realize she never really was.

My mom sat next to her, holding her arm and slowly stroking her hand, and every few minutes, she would jump awake, terrified of falling asleep.  My mom looked over at me to explain, but she didn't need to.  Wouldn't you be afraid to sleep if you thought you may never again wake up?

But maybe that wasn't it at all.

It's one of those moments that you know will stick with you for a very long time.  Although it may be a sad metaphor, it made me wish I had spent more time living the way she was dying.  Afraid to fall asleep.

Granted, that may sound morbid, but maybe her fear was of missing one more thing.  With so little time, she just wanted to soak in every last second with her daughter in her arms. Quietly basking in every transitory moment of unconditional love, the kind only a parent and child could know.

But every day we should go to bed just as she was, fearful of the one last thing we may have missed.  One last thing we could have learned or created. One last, well, whatever it is, there will always be one more wish. Each night, we should be terrified of falling asleep.

So, struggle to keep your eyes open, squint if you have to, because you never know what you could learn if you fight it just a little longer...

Thanks, Mimi, for one last lesson.