For all of the light that burned in my sister Carly, the darkness was just as brilliant. However, it helps to remember the wonderful things about her as much as the hard, hurtful times.
My grandpa died on Saturday. He was 86. It’s strange to type those words. The grief I feel seems detached in a way. More because I’m not in Illinois grieving with my family and less because of anything else.
Yet, he’s gone from this spinning sphere of dirt and water, oxygen and sun. I won’t ever hear his voice again.