I have no silly memes today. No technicolor filters or stupid hats to share. Stepping out into the morning snow to the sound of church bells chiming brought a new tide of tears.
In the quiet hours of the early morning, my Grandpa found rest. He passed on the shortest day of the year.
On the solstice, your shadow is the longest it will be all year.
I'm not sure why, but that feels right.
We gathered in his warm darkened room to watch him sleep. To touch his hair. To give kisses. To say thank you--
Thank you for his gifts and presence. Thank you for waiting for us.
The tears are not only of loss, but of deep grattitude. We are so incredibly lucky to have had him in our lives for a nearly supernatural span-- for all of the celebrations under the same roof, summertime bike rides, orange popsicles, polka hops and carrots washed with garden hoses.
Dirt is good for you.
Trapsing through the drifts on the way to work, I rode the waves of hot tears and staccato breathing. Heavy flakes cascaded down, the sun glowing through the blue clouds over the city.
A light in the darkness.
I am grateful for the holidays for my tribe to gather to, to celebrate an incredible life and weather the storm together. And just like our rock planet soaring through space, the days will grow incrementally brighter.
One day at a time.
I love you, Grandpa.