A part of me was put away for good yesterday. Another part was released.

Those two combined brought me something in return. Something I’m meant to deal with and absorb. I can already feel its presence. This is how life gives and takes.

A reckoning of grief brings a new perspective. What you do with it will be how you carry it for the rest of your life.

I witnessed a life of love, happiness and devotion.

*stamps it hard

I’ve been ok for the last two weeks. At 6:30 last night after my post about my sister’s funeral the faucets opened. It finally released.

Dinner had just arrived. I ate it cold.

I spent the evening with my little party of three (including me) on the sofa in our little living room. We have one big sectional that we will all three lounge on in our most comfortable of clothes. Oftentimes our two cats will take a corner or the little one will sit under the blanket with Lily. It has a very odd attachment to my kid.

Who can blame it?

When we are all on the sofa I can physically feel the energy of love in the room.

The comfort

Warmth

Closeness

I cannot imagine a life that’s not this. And never do I want to

That’s all.

Let’s coast for a moment..

Take me back to the night we met – Lord Huron is on my headphones. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

Hey that fucking storm was fun wasn’t it?

Unbothered by nature < grief

You get really sleepy when dealing with grief. It’s weird.

Man if the sun shows its face today or if the storm at least takes a break I’m gonna tailgate in the mountains.

I’m not running from my grief I’m celebrating life.

Don’t think the river seat plopping will be available today let’s not end up in the gulf here Gangwer.

Just need some quiet time on my tailgate to ponder. Because this has been a week to ponder.

Humor moment, my sister was cremated and placed into an urn. She and her husband have a plot side by side in a beautiful little garden. My sister was always a planner. The ceremony after the funeral was to witness her placement into the hollowed cemented breach in the ground. Urn goes into the hole and a plaque is placed over it and screwed into the display.

It’s raining sideways. We are all grieving but at the same time we are getting pelted with spray like Forrest Gump in the Vietnam rivers. The individual the funeral home had available to screw the plaque in the ground had some shaky hands. Really bad shaky hands.

As we stood solemnly with our umbrellas blowing sideways, faces filled with grief, tears and red cheeks from the sheer water pressure of the rain, the man struggling to hold the screws between his fingers and to add to it all he had a screwdriver the size of a action figure’s finger. I turned to my wife with my glasses covered in rain and smiled. She knew I was finding the humor in all its ridiculousness at that moment.

I almost reached down to steady his hand. It looked like something out of a Farrelly brothers movie. A power drill would’ve ruined the moment I suppose.

Humor is my pressure valve yall.

Yeah I think I’m gonna tailgate.

Later gators