...of expectations, of hopes, desires, needs... allowing what will be to be, and allowing all that is not to simply dissipate like dream-dust. we are such stuff as dreams are made of, after all... and our little lives are rounded by sleep.
or so i believe.
last night, i asked the Angels for guidance, for help, for anything that might bring a quick and easy release to this Wheel upon which i find myself bound, this Albatross i bear around my neck, this cross i struggle under.
you have to let her go, i heard lorraine say. remember how you had to let me go? you have to let her go, now, too. you have no ability to make things better in your grandmother's world... and you never did.
but i didn't really let you go, i said back. i feel you with me even more than i did when you were alive.
you have to let your grandmother discover that in her own time, said lorraine.
i think it's sad, i said, that a woman of such purported faith has no Faith in the end. she can't even pray.
but you can, said lorraine.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.