I recently watched my grandfather die- as in, I was in the room while he died. It was not beautiful. It was ugly.
That said, almost immediately after he died I felt good, because he'd been so sick for so long, he was almost 102 years old, and he had not been himself for years. He'd been a bag of bones with a decaying brain. He had been a burden to himself and to his family, and when that is the case for a long time, you can forget the real person he used to be.
After he died, I could really remember- immediately- the real, wonderful man he was, instead of the sick, senile, sad thing he'd become.
And THAT was beautiful.
That said, almost immediately after he died I felt good, because he'd been so sick for so long, he was almost 102 years old, and he had not been himself for years. He'd been a bag of bones with a decaying brain. He had been a burden to himself and to his family, and when that is the case for a long time, you can forget the real person he used to be.
After he died, I could really remember- immediately- the real, wonderful man he was, instead of the sick, senile, sad thing he'd become.
And THAT was beautiful.
