She answered her phone. “How are you?” I asked gently. We hadn’t had a chance to speak until now. She told me she was doing okay. It had taken her two weeks, but her mom’s house was finally cleaned out. Her grandson would help her rent the place, she said. Which felt so helpful. The service had gone fine. “Mom would’ve approved,” she said. That’s good. She described a strange mixture of relief and sorrow. It had been a long road of constant care. But that didn’t mean she didn’t now miss her mom. She did, she did and she told me she did. Of course. It felt good to talk with her. She thanked me for calling.
Alone in my car, my silent wondering returned: What are we to do with death?
Author: Lanny Ball
For more than 29 years, Lanny has taught, coached, presented, staff developed, and consulted within the exciting and enigmatic world of literacy. With unyielding passion and belief in the possibility of workshop teaching, Lanny has worked to support students, teachers, and school administrators around the country in outgrowing themselves as both writers and readers. Working first as a classroom teacher, then as a coach and TCRWP Staff Developer, Lanny is now a literacy specialist, working and living in the great state of Connecticut. Outside of literacy, he enjoys raising his three ambitious young daughters with his wife, and playing the piano. Find him on this blog, as well as on Twitter @LannyBall. Lanny is also a former co-author of a blog dedicated to supporting writing teachers and coaches that maintain classroom writing workshops, twowritingteachers.org.
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LANNY BALL, Literacy Specialist 
Poignantly captured, particularly your last line.
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Aw. Your slice is so powerful. To answer your question, I probably have to think about the circle of life. Thanks for reminding us of the big picture.
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The sting of loss doesn’t fade quickly.
Your last line is going to stay with me all day.
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What do we do indeed. Loss is loss and never feels “over” though the sting may abate some. I loved that you reached out to your friend. You know from experience what that means.
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I’d hoped you and I could connect this morning around this slice. You have been going through your own grief recently. It was my mother’s cousin who I spoke with. So my grandmother’s last sister has now passed, one of five girls. My gram is the last one at 98. Thank you for your sentiments today.
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I had to read your post when I saw the title. Gram is 98! That’s a celebration.
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I loved your last line and I think I will pass your post along to a friend (if that is fine by you). She unexpectantly lost her mother on New Year’s morning. I saw her yesterday and she is doing ok, but you know the pain is still very much a part of her life.
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Of course, it would be an honor.
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My dad passed away a little over 2 months ago! This pain is still fresh and I find myself thinking about him throughout the day, more than I did when he was alive. But when he was alive, I knew what I had to do – go see him, follow up with my sister about his doctor’s appointment, spend my weekends with my kids and my parents, help out after work. But now that he is gone, “What am I to do with death?”
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Thank you for sharing this personal story. I’m sorry for your loss. My mom passed away almost two years ago, and I struggle with this question. Wish I had more answers…thank you again.
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Oh dear. What indeed. My sister has been dealing with the loss of her husband for 18 months. It’s a lonely road, mourning someone. We all do it, but nothing prepares you for it.
Thanks for sharing your story.
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