I called my grandmother last week. She’s 93 years old, so she’s getting quite fed up with this life of hers. When I ask how she is, she usually responds ‘oh, I’m surviving’.
But this time she cut me off halfway through our conversation, ‘Sophie, will you help me get ready to die?’
Yes, I will. Of course I will.
Sometimes it’s hard to trust that things won’t turn out the way they’ve always turned out.
Sometimes it’s hard not to be hurt by the idea that you might get hurt.
Sometimes it’s hard not to believe that believing isn’t enough.
Let me be wrong about everything I know.