Come on over and meet him, here.
This post has been written in my heart for two weeks now . . . but putting it down in typeface seems so much harder, more permanent. How is it that I can be a grown woman, a full-on adult person, and still feel as vulnerable as a child?
I know I’m lucky. Until just a few years ago, all four of my grandparents were still living. That’s pretty darn good. And then my grandfathers both passed away, within months of each other. They were both in their 80’s and had battled health problems for years, so the end, while sad, was not a surprise.
But my grandmother . . . my paternal grandmother, she’s the one who seemed destined to outlive us all. An indomitable force. A woman to be reckoned with.
That’s a lot of thinking. I’m really quite tired.