the ringer...

There's a routine.  A way I do things.  Every night before I close my eyes and sleep I turn the ringer off on my phone.  Plug it in to charge and curl up on my side to close my eyes and sleep.

Except last night.

Last night I turned the ringer up.  Set my phone in the nook of my headboard and only fell asleep after hours.  Hours of thoughts and words.

I knew in the morning my phone would ring.  I knew it would wake me up.  I knew I wouldn't like what I had to hear, but I would have no choice but to hear it.

At 8:26 Sunday morning my phone did ring.  I reached up with my eyes closed and answered without looking to see who it was.  I was only going through the motions.  I knew my mother was on the other end.  I knew she was going to tell my that her mother, a woman I have never been able to respect or agree with, was gone.  She died Sunday morning in the ICU.  Heart failure.  Kidney Failure.  Pneumonia.

She was old.  She'd been ill for a long time.

I hadn't seen her in 17 years.

Still I grieve.  But I can grieve with my ringer off.