The Story of Benevolence as Told by Keira
Before I tell you my story, I beg assurance that you will be kind and compassionate. It is necessary that I trust you to hold my words and tears gently and with both hands
Eloquent story telling is not my strong suit; so please have patience with my disjointed and feverish tale
Narratives are notorious for leaving the teller
Exposed, vulnerable and often times judged
Lost, small and careening through murky waters is how I felt while holding her hand; watching her die
Oh, how I wanted her to stay with me even as I whispered, “It’s ok, Grammie. You go.”
Vivian, my Vivvy, taught me to say I love you in Swedish. ” Jag älskar dig, Keira. Jag älskar dig ”
Eulogies are excruciating to write when you cannot let go.
Nothing, I suspect can prepare you for when you realize that you, too, are destructible
Cancer may not be a death sentence, but it would be a lie to say that I never feared the grim reaper would be the monster stealthy approaching from underneath my closet door as I lay sleeping
Eleventh hour too rapidly approaching.
— Written by Keira