The Grey

Not really living but not quite dead.
It is the place nobody talks about until a loved one has entered the grey.
We talk about living, and we talk about death, but there isn't a lot of talk about the actual process of dying.
Dying is in the grey.
For some, death is a finite point on a timeline of life.  But for others death starts at one point and crosses a span along that line before it is complete.
I have seen the grey.
The grey is hard.
The grey is ugly.
The grey hurts.
There is pain, confusion, uncertainty, and sorrow.
There is struggle.
Struggle to walk, think, eat, or breathe.
The look...the plea, the fear, the discomfort.

It is one foot in death and one still in life.
The time it takes to cross over from one to the other.

The grey has moments of life - a smile, a glimmer in the eyes, a laugh.
Peace.

Like a color photograph fading away.  Traces of the different hues remain, but vibrancy is gone and details stripped away.

Today I had a full dose of grey.
My grandmother smiled when I said hello, held my hand close, listened as I prayed with her, and even laughed a full belly laugh as joked around with her.
But along with all of that came the scary moments, terror filled both our eyes.  Peace replaced with panic, comfort with pain.

I pray that the time in the grey will not be long.




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