One Year Later

Today is the 1 Year Anniversary of my Opa's death.

January 26 1920 - December 20 2009

I think about him all the time. 

Sometimes when I'm sad I imagine him near me and I feel better.

   He was in my dream several days ago. In my dream we were hanging out at a cottage in the kitchen, setting the table for lunch. It was really sunny outside and the door to the patio was open. 

We were catching up. I was telling him about my life. 

   I kept walking up and hugging him. He laughed, kissed my forehead, and jokingly asked what all the hugs were for.  In my dream the hug felt so real, and I told him that I didn't know when I'd have a chance to hug him again.

This song always reminds me of him:


Classic Song– You Are My Sunshine

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I've learned a lot in the past two years. Time has brought so many changes. 

I've encountered euphoria and fatigue, exhilaration, grief, and disappointment, to name a few. 

Through these celebrations and challenges I've noticed something about the way I handle pressure. 

I used to be more susceptible to sorrow and anger. 

I used to give my whole heart over to some kind of all-consuming emotional spiral. 

I used to take things personally, burn internally, and react in self-destructive ways.

But now I recognize the shift. 

I have allowed situations that would have otherwise have made me furious to wash over me like rain. 

Things that would make me prickle I've shaken from me, 

and I've closed myself to people and things that affect me in these ways.

I've approached incidents with understanding and kindness, and found that my calm is useful and contagious.

I've learned to quench my initial reactions within seconds, 

reflect, take a breath, and proceed with a peaceful heart. 

I've had to set aside the turbulence. I've had lessons in acceptance. 

And I've had to practice patience. Or at least I've tried.

Through all of the heart-wrenching events of the past while I've tried to react very logically. 

And I've chosen to resist the powerful forces that would envelop me in negativity.

I don't dwell, I get driven. I take whatever energy is in me, and whatever feelings move me, and I change them into action and thought. I try to tap into tranquility. 

There is alchemy in sorrow.