I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth in the middle of a writing streak. I'll resist the temptation to make a joke about how this is the kind of thing that happens when I plan to write for 31 days in a row.
On Wednesday, I got a call from my mom that my grandpa, the dear, grumpy, lovable old grouch that has simply always been around, was dying. I had enough time to throw some clothes in a bag and some kids in the car and drive down to my hometown to see him before he was gone. I remembered all of the kids, but not all of the clothes.
He died on Saturday night. My mom, sister, and I were able to be there with some of our other close family. It was a peaceful, spirit-filled and holy moment.
It's been a whirlwind of visits with family, runs to Target and the grocery store for random items we forgot, nearly-daily playground adventures, and lots of coffee to make up for all the sleep I haven't been getting. I miss home and George. My kids are hanging in there pretty well, all things considered, but it's hard to be away from home and routine.
My brain is clogged with words, sentences and thoughts I haven't yet put into words, all tangling together and straining to get out. I have much to write but not much time to write it. My plan is to pick back up with the 31 days when we get back home, and I hope to write the posts I missed, too...but right now, I need to figure out how to entertain my kids at the visitation this evening and help my sister find the right camisole for the funeral. Oh, and we're going to the playground again.
Priorities, you know.
Thanks for yor prayers. I'll be back here with you again soon.