Maybe I'm not that much of a bad person as I always thought. Maybe my heart is lighter than I knew and maybe I love my father more than I thought. As of tonight, my stepmother died in the hospital. I have mentioned her in some of my blogs and if you know me a little, you might know that we were less than friends. We were able to live together for some days during the holidays and were able not to fight during these days, but basically we were two very different persons who did not get along with each other well. We just had a very different view about life in general.
Tonight, as my father told me, they had to bring her to the hospital because things went really bad - she had pulmonary fibrosis (do you call it like that in English? Dunno.) and tonight she choked on it and died because of it.
I feel sorry for her children, she left two daughters, one of them with a severe mental illness who has to be taken care of a lot, and she of course left my father. He is now alone again, in this big house (although this time he has a dog. They bought a dog together not nearly a year ago). I cried, I am so sorry for them. I hope that she is at peace now, and because I know that she believed that the soul lives on after death and may reincarnate, I hope that her soul is at peace now and that all pain was taken away from her. I might not have liked her, but I have seen her suffer and I genereally do not wish for anybody to suffer.
He loved her and I know that, I heard his broken voice talking to me on the phone early this morning. I immediately checked my bank account, I could afford to go to him if I use my savings, but he wants me to stay home. I know that he is nobody who likes to grief in company, so I respect his wish, but I will watch him and if I notice that he gets too weak, I might go on the weekend nonetheless.
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there, I did not die."