…

She writes with the voice of a poet:

“When my atheist engineer grandfather died, my atheist engineer grandmother leaned over the body in the hospice bed that had contained half a century of shared life and love, cradled the cranium in which his stubborn and sensitive mind had dwelt, and whispered into the halogen-lit ether: ‘Where did you go, my darling?‘”

It is the universal certainty, death. And also the universal mystery because no one can see one side from the other.

If, like me, you’re unafraid of the subject – and I know many, perhaps most, are (not judging in either case) – I believe you will find this beautiful and comforting.

All you need is about 2 minutes to reflect on life all day, using a poet’s eyes.

Just click HERE.

“Here we are, you and me, my grandmother who is and my grandfather who is no more — each of us a trembling totality, made of particles both absolutely vulnerable and absolutely indestructible, hungering for absolutes in a universe of relatives, hungering for permanence in a universe of ceaseless change, famished for meaning, for beauty, for emblems of existence.

Out of these hungers, out of these contradictions, we make everything that invigorates life with aliveness: our art and our music, our poems and our mathematics, our novels and our loves.”

Life: what a beautiful thing.