He called me Tweety Bird.

Before this week I had never dealt with death.

For some reason I thought I would be able to handle it pretty well when the time came, although as some of you may remember me saying before I am very sympathetic. Seeing someone grieving in a movie is enough to start my waterworks.


A week ago today, I was having dinner at my 'pseudo family's' house. It was an early dinner and I had been planning to go to a concert that night of a artist that I had been waiting months to see.

But I got a call.

My grampa was in the hospital and it was time to say goodbye.
He was unconscious, so we couldn't interact with him, but we stayed there all evening, gathered around his bed.
There seemed to be no change, though, so everybody left for their separate homes.

But the second call came at 3am the next morning.

And now he's gone.

When you have known someone your entire life, it is hard to accept that they can be gone and never to return.
It hurts my heart.

My brother and I played a song at the funeral today.
It was a song by one of my grampa's favorite singers.
I didn't actually get to record me and Behn playing it, but I sat down and quickly did a video of it when I got home.
So here is Country Roads by John Denver.

Christmas '08. Enjoying the handknitted toque his daughter, Missy, made for him.