When I feel sand slipping through my fingers, it feels silky and smooth despite being thousands of individual coarse grains. Each grain contains the story of how rock became sand over many long, complex years. Together, the grains create a beach: a soothing, calming, warm place to lounge. Separated, the grains cause discomfort and persistent irritation.
These days, this is what I think of when I consider my sweet cousin’s death. The plan she made to end her life revealed a beach full of individual grains of sand, worn and ground down over the years. Her mind and soul had been a beautiful, calm space but must have become an intolerable place to inhabit. My cousin must have felt tiny and insignificant. In fact, she was impressive and delightful. She inspired generosity. She gave and took nothing.
Except her life.
And I want it back so badly.