life the Elizabeth Readling way

My great-aunt Polly died yesterday... if anything in life ever puts things into perspective it's death. Suddenly you're reminded that this isn't a forever kinda thing we've got going here. It's time sensitive. And no one is getting out alive. In that sense I guess death is a good thing. It reminds us to live. To enjoy the time we have. To not dwell on what could have been or what should have been but to take what we are given and run with it. Losing my grandmother's sister is like losing one more link to my grandmother. My namesake was a fantastic woman... a fighter... early on in life she had more than her fair share of tough breaks and at a young age she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders... taking over raising her six younger brothers and sisters when her mother couldn't. Compared to her I am nothing. I've never faced the challenges she faced... never demonstrated the ultimate grace under pressure that was totally and completely her! Even though the big guy upstairs and I aren't nearly as close as we should be I def believe in something after this crazy ride called life. If my grandmother could look down and see me would she be proud of me? Would my grandfather? I'm not so sure of the answer to that question... I think it would be a little yes and a bit of no. I'm not sure if it's because of where I was raised or because of the people who helped to raise me but my values, beliefs and standards don't always match everyone elses. I think that my grandmother would want me to be proud of who and what I am... not ashamed... not feeling like I need to change myself to better fit in. Death reminds me of my grandmother. My grandmother reminds me of the way I should be living my life. I should be living it the Elizabeth Readling way. I should take everything that I learned from her and apply it to who I am and be proud of that... which hopefully would have made her proud to.