Drifting

I have wondered in the past what people of power feel like as they fall. The thought of Marie Antoinette comes to mind. Did she fear death? Or was she strong... To die at the guillotine is some pretty harsh treatment for a Queen. I know if death was in my midst I wouldn't be able to stop the cold rush of emptiness. I would feel alone and restless. Or maybe I would be ready, at peace. My grandfather has slowly started to drift away from us. His mind is perfectly sound, but his body remains human as it has reached its breaking point. He has of late been talking to my grandmother as if his time has come. About how wonderful his life has been. How happy and accomplished he feels. How at peace he feels. And the added comfort of encouragement for his wife. While he may feel at peace I don't think it is his time. He hasn't taken me fishing yet. He hasn't given me quite enough stories of the past. He hasn't met his quota of grandfatherly advice. It just isn't his time. Some day his time will come and God will welcome him into the gates of Heaven with open arms, but not now, not yet. It's just not his time. I think that the reason why I think that before death I would feel cold and empty is because that is how I feel when I lose someone. When your grandfather tells you that he is "ready to be planted" all you can think is.... "but there aren't any pots big enough." and hope that each day he is still by your side.