I've been hesitant to write anything since my gramps has passed. If I don't talk about it, it doesn't exist.
A few days ago I drove by the cemetery. I've found myself there often these past couple of months. In the hectic life I live, two boys, three baseball teams, working full time etc., I've realized that I need moments alone where my stress can disappear, even if for just a brief moment. The cemetery is a great place for this to happen for me. I can feel my Gramps hug me, and tell me "everything will be alright." Just as if he were next to me when I visit his graveside.
While I was standing next to my Grandpas plot, I noticed the ground had started to settle back into its original place. The once torn up and dead grass has found its original roots and is now regaining its life again, blending into the rest of the ground. I know soon, it will be as if the ground had never been tampered with. It actually makes me sad that there has been enough time without my Gramps for grass to start growing.
Just like the ground, our lives as a family have slowly started to settle and our new life has started to take place. Our life that consists of Gramps watching over us from afar rather than standing by our sides here. We are fortunate to have our roots to grasp on to during times of struggle. They are what keep us from falling apart. We miss him every day, it is still hard, but we are moving forward like he'd want us to. My grandpa was, and forever will be the strongest root of our family.
