I have never written a blog before, or vented my feelings publicly. I am not sure if I am bogging to share my story, share my sadness, or to connect with other like-minded people.
My grandmother is in the hospital dying, and I feel a great sense of loss and sadness. With that said, if I let myself fall into that despair I would definitely not be a honoring her life, or helping her to find the peace that she deserves to pass.
At 95, my grandmother Beauty was never old, never sick and never anything short of being dressed to walk the “red carpet”. Beauty avoided being around people who complained about their aches, their pains, and their woes. She tried to surround herself with children, and people much younger then herself, who had a zest for life.
She loved Vera the violinist, Phyllis her bossy daughter who kept her on the move 24-7, Glen, her zen like son, who would let her eat anything she wanted, April her other grand daughter who could sing better then Barbara Streisand, Genie her gorgeous and talented sister, who she believed could do anything, her great grandchildren, Dylan Sofia and Sean, and mostly she loved me, and would so hate to see me sad.
In writing this, I am trying to honor her life, and keep myself focused. Her dream was for me to be on the Oprah show and share my plays and stories. And while this Blog is not the Oprah show and her hospital bed is not the studio audience, perhaps it is a place for me to write about what matters most.
I will end this blog with this quote: “It is not the number of breaths we take but the number of moments that take our breath away.”