five years ago today, i went on a walk along lake sammamish with my sister. until i told her at work, she hadn't yet read the email that dragged me out of sleep that day. the one that said my grandfather didn't have long left in this world.
at nine am {and i distinctly remember marking the time}, i stood out on a narrow sliver of sand extending its long finger into the water and i looked up just as an eagle soared effortlessly passed. to this day, i remember what i said inside my head: i wonder if that is what death is like. just a silent, majestic coasting out.
we returned to work a little while later and spent the day working in calm and quiet.
sometime after noon we got the email that my grandpa had passed away quietly at home with his wife's hand on his heart and his daughter at his side. he left this world at 9am, about the time the eagle was sailing over head.
leaving work early, i came home and spent the day alone, walking, wallowing, and then finally turning toward words, the computer, this blog, and created a space that has been as much about the conscious preservation of my stories as about the unintended consequence of refining my relationship between the textures i experience and my ability to communicate them.
my grandpa was a magnificent storyteller. and his voice was big and his heart bigger. and here, five years later, reading the email we got that day in 2008, just a few spare sentences telling us he had passed, i can easily remember the electric shock followed by numbness that washed through me, insulating me from my self and the world as i floated toward my sister's desk and told her the news. i still recall with awe the contradiction of feeling everything and nothing at once and how that is the only time i've experienced loss to that magnitude.
and it's a good reminder on days like today when i get angry at my mom while she's trying to give me advice on the phone. days like today when i say goodbye to my best friend who is one of quite a few people in my life taking these next, bold steps forward and away into their lives. on days like today when i eat the cheesecake that only allowed me passing happiness with a stomach ache to follow. and days like today when i realize it's been months since i've written a line here or jogged a physical line for any serious distance, either. days like today when it's all converging fast on not good enough and failure and something must be wrong.
this is not really much of a blog post. more of a ramble and reminisce. this has been the longest stretch of not writing probably since i began, so it's as much about getting back into the words as it is an acknowledgement of five years and 915 blog entries.
so here's to storytelling. to my grandpa's long life. to making moves toward my own next milestones. to running again. to staying in my apartment for at least two years. to the herb garden i just planted and the rose bush on my porch named delilah. to you, my friend. to me.
good night.
