Death and Recovery

My mind is swirling with ideas of death lately.  My dearly beloved grandfather, champion of my childhood, kindest person I've ever known, who performed my christening and my wedding ceremony, has been ill for several weeks now.  He has been in and out of the hospital, and every time something seems to improve, something else starts to fall apart.  He is currently being kept sedated and having a little difficulty breathing as he fights off yet another infection.  The majority of my family is on vacation, and D and I are supposed to meet them on Saturday--which leaves me in town to drive my grandmother around and sit with her at the hospital during the day.  It is painful to watch as they both struggle--he with getting well, she with the possibilities of what may happen.  It is painful to think of the idea that he will probably not come home as doctors discuss the idea of placing him on a ventilator, and it is hard to balance keeping my family up to date vs. keeping their vacation as worry-free as possible.  

I came home from the hospital this afternoon grateful for the chance to recharge, but even more so for the fact that things I have learned in my recovery are guiding me through this experience.  Before, I would probably have been panicking by now, but today I am simply focused on the fact that what will happen, will happen, and I must accept that I cannot change that.  Part of me wants to skip through this nasty stage and either hurry to a point where he is better or to the point that his death is past and we can move on from this waiting game--but through recovery, I know that all I can do is be here, where I am, and all I can do is all I can do both for myself and my family.  

I am--we are--taking things one day at a time.  And that fact is as great a gift of recovery as any.