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We just returned from a holiday visit to Texas where our entire extended family lives. While there, my sisters delicately mentioned to me that I seem to be obsessed with death. It was obvious I make them uncomfortable by voicing my views on a subject that is taboo to so many.

I don’t think I’m obsessed with death but I do feel very differently about it than I did before losing Ryan. I no longer fear death nor dread it. I no longer fantasize about ending my life like I did for such a long time but at the same time I no longer get nervous when airplanes hit turbulence or I have a new ache, pain, lump or bump.

Ron’s dad is hospitalized in Texas after breaking his hip a couple weeks ago. He is almost 87 and will likely never live independently again. Dementia is setting in since this accident. In his lifetime, he has fought in World War II; lost his father when he was a young adult; lost his brother in his 40’s; lost his wife of 53 years; lost his 18 year old son in 1969; lost his 18 year old grandson in 2007. Surely that’s more than a lifetime’s quota of suffering. He can no longer drive. He’s dependent on others for all but the most basic of needs. If you believe in an afterlife, as I do, don’t you think it’s surely better than what sweet Granddad is facing? In my opinion, there are certainly things worse than death.

I love Ron’s dad as much as I loved my own. He’s a wonderful man and I already miss him. I belief his death will be a blessing when it comes. If there’s a Heaven, he will surely have a place there. And he’s got people there – special people he loves and misses.

Maybe my sisters are right. We bereaved mothers probably freak people out with our feelings about society’s most taboo subject. Our children are there –wherever that is – so it can’t be all bad.