and i cannot tell you (two blogs in one night)

It is hard for me. It is daily hard for me, but my gramma. My tough Gramma's heart is softening and breaking. She's seeing the world through a pair of eyes never used before. A world of grief.

It is hard for me to look back to blogs I wrote in March. It's harder to think about April 18 and that porch that looks out to the Superstitions. The smell of grapefruits and losing a breath from such a strong hug. Remembering the taste of cherry coffee after dinner and a large sunset out the window of a cool Arizona night. The feeling of a sunburn and then the hero bringing the relief of an aloe vera plant when we were young. The spring break visit in March. I still remember his words to me after I asked how he was. "Ah, Lindy. Better now that you're here." I still remember a month after walking into the same house and losing all composure from that very memory.
It's still so unreal. It's still so empty. And it's been months. I'm still sad and it has been months, but I am happy that my Grampa is smiling. Smiling uncontrollably. He always was and I have no doubt in my mind that he is now. He is still going to remind me of living passionately. These memories--they are great ones. I am sad in these memories, but grateful to what they hold. It's hard to let good people go.

"It's a beautiful, but bitter dream.
God and all his wisdom takes the people that you love the most.
When the walls close in and it's hard to breathe.
May the ones you love be the ones you keep."

On a less emotional note, I still fear death after being inspired to drop that fear from my Grampa's passing. How do I keep from fearing death? I fear losing the rest of my greatly loved ones, and I fear my own death. I am not necessarily afraid of the afterlife, but there's something about just dying that scares me. What is a way I can demolish this fear?