My Grandfather passed away December 31st, 2017. He had a stroke in October. My dad was already taking care of him, but he also had a stroke in May. Basically it was to much for him to manage on his own, I became secondary care giver. My brother became a helper. We had a few hospital visits, lots of stress, I’ll admit he became my priority and everything else took a backseat. I did what had to be done. Long before he was sick I said I would not care for him. I didn’t know him, he didn’t know me. My dad struggled with the idea of placing him in a home. I am a daddy’s girl. I thought if I helped out he would quickly make up his mind. A few days in and my mind was the one made up. If we were going to care for him it was going to be on my terms, every action was to be done with love, respect, and most importantly he was to have dignity. He had the sweetest face, and even without words you knew he was a kind man.

The reason this is so fresh tonight, the VA sent us a letter honoring him for his service. Like picking your scabs and swimming in the dead sea.

There is this idea that grief ends, it never ends. It just stops effecting you everyday. It is still there waiting for days like today to show up and remind you of how great the love was. Grief is the final act of love, year and years, it is still there.

LOVE, Momma T-Rex

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