Since You've Been Gone

It's so hard to believe that it's been a year since you passed on. Sometimes it feels like it's been 10 years, sometimes it feels like 10 days and other times it's hard to believe I didn't just speak with you 10 minutes ago.

I no longer cry every single day, but that doesn't mean I miss you any less. It simply means that missing you has become a way of living and the ache has become gentle instead of burning and overwhelming. It has moved to the quiet place in my heart where you and Grandma will always be, living in memories and in the lessons and love that you brought to my life. I am so very blessed to have had you as my Grandpa for the 31 years that I did, even if that time didn't seem near long enough.

I find myself missing you at the smallest moments. The every day moments. The silly, random moments that would have made you smile or laugh.

I miss you when I'm out toiling in the yard, wishing I could call and share in a triumph or get advice after a defeat. I think of you every time I'm out in the butterfly garden with a mixture of sadness and happiness. I missed you when I saw the first monarch visiting my milkweed.

I missed you at Christmas when I wanted to call and tell you how nice and warm it was here while it was cold and snowy there, and hearing you laugh when I declared for the millionth time how much I HATE SNOW.

I missed you at my birthday because for the first time in my memory you weren't there to call and say "Good morning" (no matter what time of day it was) and wish me a happy birthday

I missed you while I was sorting through your records, wishing that I had taken more time to talk with you about your music, or that you were there to answer questions about where something came from, why you had it or WHY you had so many duplicate copies!

I think that it will always be in those small, simple moments that I miss you most because it was in those small, simple moments that you always took such joy. I hope that I will always remember the lesson you showed me: that even the smallest acts can be large in the love and joy they contain.

I take comfort in the knowledge that you are whole and well, resting in the presence of our Lord. I hold on to the hope that we have for life everlasting in Christ. I know that while there is sadness and loss there is also hope and comfort for a reunion in Glory.

 Until then, I will hold you in my heart.

Don't mind me...

Redshirts

For my birthday this year we went to the LA Times Festival of Books.

I really wanted to meet John Scalzi and have him sign my copy of Fuzzy Nation (which he did). We also got to go to two panels that he was on that were absolutely hysterical.

His next book is called Redshirts so we wore our red shirts and he graciously agreed to a photo. But, of course, since there were redshirts involved we had to be expendable...

( Definition of Redshirts )

As a special gift for him, I baked him an army of redshirts:

(Thanks to the Foxtrot comic for the inspiration!)