I have survived an adulthood jam-packed with grief. There were years of “nothing can be done.” Accept the diagnosis. Accept the death. Accept your life that feels forever flawed. Nothing can be done.

I was 35 when my little 7-year-old girl was buried. Sixty-two when joined my husband joined The cemetery is far from where my son and I live now. I was glad I didn’t have to visit their graves.

Now I will no longer return to Memphis, having made the conscious decision not to travel. And that was something that could be done. I could make a conscious decision.

I live a simple life and that is also a decision that I make. No pressure except self-pressure and that is what I am having to look at these days.

I have a way of thinking the worst about myself and I bet that you do, too! It is how we human beings are designed. We have one foot on earth and one in heaven—sometimes even in hell.

As I approach my eightieth year, I am looking my age. Once rather attractive, I am now rather old. On medications for neuropathy, my short-term memory is shot. I forget that I have clothes to put in the dryer. I forget that I forget!

My new smart TV is my greatest pleasure. Grace and Frankie are my new best friends. When it comes to technical matters I can’t understand, my son steps in to help me, plus he is my chauffeur.

Where is this essay going, if not in the direction of honesty? Things change; I change. I change; things change. It is wisest to let go of our pride and embrace humility. Oh, it is so hard to do that. To recognize oneself as unimportant in the overall scheme of things.

There are many blessings around me and I am awash with gratitude. I will stay in this old house as long as I can. Our next-door neighbors are loving; the rest of the neighbors I do not know well at all.

As the world grows increasingly dark and the planet groans under its own weight, we need to be mindful of our blessings. Leonard Cohen is a gift to me; he speaks of how we are all suffering and imperfect. To know that is to come into a deeper love. And a deeper love solves everything.

Vicki Woodyard