your smile

For 5 days shy of 7 months now, a part of me has been weighted down by the fear of pending bills. And for much of that time, my fear has turned out to be well-founded, with all manner of specialists and surgeons and departments offering us their requests for our donations (I jest). It has been, to put it mildly, a trial. 

One night, at a dinner gathering with friends, several months ago now, a friend, familiar with the peculiar trial of fielding medical trauma while uninsured, asked me how much I was working. When I told her that I was only part-time then, she noted that it was a good thing . . .

And yes, countless hours have been spent writing letters, filling out forms, sending documents, and making phone calls (or, more precisely, rocking out to the “on hold” tunes that I have, not to toot my horn, become quite adept at.

Today it ended. 

The last bill has been paid. We are, as far as I can tell, debt free.

Oddly, once the shock wore off and the reality of it set in, the first emotion to squeeze its way into my newly spacious soul was an achey longing. A longing for my GramBea. I wanted to tell her the good news. I knew she would understand. She got it. She got me.

I suspect that there is more of this to come. More ache. More longing. 

Grief.

I miss you GramBea. You know that. You used to tell me I could “do anything.” Life has hammered quite the opposite into my fearful heart over the past few years. But tonight I think that maybe, just maybe, you spoke some truth into being. I see your smile.