As my grandmother lies dying, half a world away,
I search the Internet for what it is like to die,
For how to deal with grief, for wisdom from ancient Stoics.
I imagine I am in a dim and cloistered library, leafing through books,
on Virtues, cardinal and theological.
This has been coming, as it will for me too.
Go gently, without rage, and reap the blessings sewn in youth.
Blessings should be sewn past that too,
Even in those earthen depressions we trundle through.
I will miss you.