The other day, they decided to put her on comfort care.

Hospice was called in.

I stood beside my husband, looking out the window and waiting.

I stared with tears in my eyes as we watched them come down the hall to pick her up.

I helped him gather his things to head to the truck.

As we approached the elevator, a knot grew in my stomach.

The doors shut, and we started descending to the lobby.

When those doors opened, I took a deep breath and stepped out.

Here I was again.

I took this exact walk in this exact hallway last year.

As we walked through the cold, white corridor, I thought, “WOW. I hate this walk.”

My head was hung because I knew what was coming soon.

My body was remembering how painful this is.

I don’t know if I have ever felt so lonely.

It was like the cold had somehow settled in my soul.


Today, we made the arrangements.

Preacher, times, flowers…

Worries about who is gonna get pissy…you know, ALL the stuff.

I have sat quietly, reflecting on the things that I have learned between these two solitary walks.

Fighting for it and letting go are both genuine acts of love.

Missing someone and continuing to carry that love with you is possible.

Just because they aren’t physically here doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate them.

I can be both understanding and mad at the same time.

Grief and stress are not an excuse to treat others badly.

It’s okay to not be okay.

There is a ton more, and I’m sure they will come to me at 1 a.m.

So today, with tears in my eyes but peace in my heart, I will be grateful for the sister-in-law who was one of my best friends.