Project 365 - Day 15

As I sat next to Gramma's bed on Saturday afternoon she was not responsive. To manage her pain, she was given morphine every four hours to keep her comfortable. I knew that it would likely be the last time I would see her alive and one image kept weaving its way through my thoughts.

It was an image of a sunset.

That warm, early fall afternoon Gramma was physically in her bed. She was breathing regularly. Yet, she wasn't really there. There was no laughter. No quiet singing of "Beautiful Dreamer." The essence of Gram had already disappeared below the horizon line. What was left that afternoon were just reflections of Gram left in the clouds.

By late Saturday night even the reflections had faded and she quietly slipped completely out of our sight.

But there's an amazing thing about a sunset – just because we can't see the sun anymore doesn't mean that it isn't there. When the sun goes down on our side of life it bursts above the horizon somewhere else. On Saturday night I can imagine Gramma literally flying over the horizon, laughing and singing at the top of her lungs.

The sunrise is a really beautiful thing.