but a breath

1 year ago today my granddad passed away.
I can hardly believe we stand at 365 days later.

I can't help but remember that day and the few leading up to it and leading away.
I knew that day was coming fast. I remember when I said my last words to him and I knew so innately, up, down and all through my entire being that those were the last words. I made them count and I'm so glad I did. Maybe that's why I cried a bit, thought a lot, pulled myself together and moved on with grace. I had been preparing for weeks. Every so often I remember him and it pulls at me. It's usually something that I see or do that he was involved with or did that reminds me. Like this summer at camp, I took a kayak out into the middle of the lake and suddenly I remembered who had taught me to kayak and all the little tips and tricks to make it the best experience possible and I started sobbing all by myself in the middle of Duck lake.

Last year on this night 2 friends came to be with me because I needed them.
Slightly uncomfortable and in weird moods, but willing to come for me all the same.
That was a defining moment of sorts.

I'm realizing more and more that each day has its own defining moment, whether it be wonderful or terrible. I can't predict much anymore, and that's okay with me.

To end on a happy note, because I am pretty happy these days, I'll end with a happy quote.

"Happiness is a function of accepting what is"

I think that's a fitting quote to end on.