Three Years

Hello lovelies!  Now that L is feeling better (and she has displayed that by ransacking our DVD and Xbox game collections...HA!) I can get back into the writing business.

Before today's post, I would like just to thank Amy Bowman from New Nostalgia for plugging my blog this morning!  I managed to win a $25 Target gift card from her blog and she was kind enough to plug POP for me!  Isn't she great?  Go over and check her out!  Not only is she a cancer survivor, but through that journey, she has discovered ways to live a more healthy lifestyle.  She has tons of tips on organization, health and beauty (she was a hairdresser), crafting, etc.  She is also on Pinterest! A lot of great stuff over there!  What are you waiting for?  Go check her out!  

And now onto more serious matters....

I debated on writing about the following, actually.  However, the spirit of this blog is about being real and with that, sometimes I may have to write about things that are sad.  This is one of those times.  I haven't ever written about this event before, as a matter of fact, I have hardly ever talked about it.  I am not sure why.  I don't know if it is because the whole thing was a blur or if I was more prepared for it to happen than I thought I was.  Whatever the reason may be, I am going to talk about it today, because today has been three years.

Ladies and gentlemen, this was my grandfather back in the day. (Excuse the quality, it is a picture of a picture because my scanner is nowhere near me right now.  Yes, that is laziness talking. My apologies.) 

"Where to begin?  Let's start with the end
This black and white photo never captured my skin..."
-Carbon Leaf The War Was In Color

Three years ago today, he passed away.  The story goes as such:  He went to bed, woke up one time in the middle of the night, went back to bed, and then never woke up again.  He just went to sleep and that was that.  Looking back on it, I think that may have been one of the most comforting things for me.  He didn't suffer, he just went to sleep.  He had lived a good life.  He had done things, seen things, experienced things....I have no doubt in my mind that he was satisfied with his life and the way his children and their children and, in some instances, their children, turned out.  He was old and it was his time.  

And then I think of the little girl asleep in the room down the hall and I feel my heart clench.  She never got to meet him.  She never will.  He never got to see me (finally) graduate from college or get married.  He isn't at Christmas anymore.  Our family isn't the same.  It just isn't.  At least, not for me.  

He was the only grandfather that had been around my whole young life, teen years, and into my mid-twenties.  I had a relationship with him.  My brother and I did things with him and my grandmother.  They took us places.  They brought us M&Ms, Twinkies, and let us be little.  (This is when I add that I was devastated when Twinkies disappeared from the store shelves.  It was seriously a slap in the face.  I know that may be dramatic, but hey, that was a part of my childhood.  It hurt.) 

He has been gone for three years and I can still hear my dad on the other end of the phone that early Sunday morning.  (My mother couldn't speak.  It was her father.  Sorry Mom, but I am kind of glad it was dad that called.)  My dad was very cut and dry about it.  I didn't cry on the phone, but when I hung up.....there weren't enough Kleenex in the house.

Sometimes there still isn't enough Kleenex.

Grandpa, I think you would be proud of me.  I know I am the different one.  I know that I do things and say things that other's in the family don't approve of, but I don't need or want their approval.  I have a reason and a season for the things I do and you knew that.  Always.  I take the long way around and you knew that.  You always assured Mom that I would be okay.  I AM OKAY.  I wish you could be here to see L, to play with her, and to watch her be silly.  She would make you laugh, your whole face would light up when you would laugh, and she would do the same thing.  I wish you could bring her treats and let her be little like you did me and her uncle.  I wish you weren't just a photo in a frame and stories, but alas, we all become photos in a frame and stories.  That is life and they will have to do.

"In the ash, I found an ember
Something warm to help remember
A block of wood that used to be
A strong tall family tree...

A strong tall family tree
Blowing in the breeze..."
Carbon Leaf
Block of Wood

Now...where is that box of Kleenex....?

Until next time,


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