A cross


Saw two good signs today driving up to get my lunch. It’s been a weird day. Just kind of whatever. The past weekend was truly just overwhelming. A viewing on Friday and a family hurting. A person I crossed paths with passing away Friday night. Then friend of a friend died Sunday. All just making me realize that there is no going around tragedy; you just have to walk right through it. More and more I feel just we continue to climb up this mountain called life. One of my favorite Judah and The Lion songs came on and I was singing at the top of my lungs as it blasted. It makes me feel good to play music and sing again. I was pulling into a parking spot and drove past a tow truck. I had seen tow trucks lots of times. This one had the hook just flat vertical on the back. It was just the same height and dimension as a cross. Part of me was like I have never seen a tow truck like that. As I came out of the second store, I passed a car with a vanity plate that read LUV – HER. I got into my car and laughed. I am like, I see you. I know you’re there. I try to pass along what I learned through this entire process. I realize that while we were handling all your medical/insurance/hospital stuff, I lost about 4-5 months of my life. I realize I put a lot of my stuff on the back burner. Some stuff I completely booted off the burner all together. I didn’t even know that some things happened that I just wasn’t aware of at the time. I said to one of the girls, that’s something I definitely shouldn’t be handling. I hope to never have to do it again. The utter magnitude of what went on during those 5-6 months is even difficult to put into words; and that wasn’t even the emotional toll it took. I understand how some people, maybe handling someone who has zero signs of life, wants to give up. I am glad we didn’t. You just don’t know and I guess if someone who is hopeless and negative, you probably have no hope about much in life. I see that we had hope. I know it might have been fleeting, but I would want people to hope for the best and not just, “well, nothing can be done…” type attitude. Hope is what allows us to dream and dreaming is never a bad thing. It’s been a weird week. Just going through the motions. Gotta get back in the gym. This incision is healed enough. Weather been kinda gray. Hoping for some sun. Even if it’s cold. I hope you can see all of us. I keep saying how much we miss you, but really, I have to imagine how much you miss us. Hugging Lucy, Ace, and grabbing Kane’s cheeks. Hugging Lam and Bia, Lisa and Chrissy. Driving to see all of us. I can’t even imagine how you feel. I know you probably wanted to say goodbye to us, but it was not to be. A good buddy’s mother, said she wouldn’t mind leaving the way you did cause knowing you’re leaving can be super painful to experience and watch. She’s a nurse, so I know she has lots of experience with this type of thing.  I can’t even think of that feeling. Looking into someone’s eyes or their eyelids over closed eyes as they are moving on to the next place. I didn’t enjoy that with Pop Pop. A part of me just wants to believe you heard all the things we said to you. When we talked. When we cried. When we laughed. When we slept in your room. All those visits to Fox. My hope is that you never felt alone there. I wish you could’ve been somewhere we just could be at 24/7, but I know that’s not reality. You being at Fox just seems like it didn’t even happen. I don’t want to call it a nightmare cause from that perspective, they took great care of you and they did care about you and us. Driving there now, well, it seems like it just didn’t happen. Those cold nights going there, after work, a weekend morning. Part of me wants to believe your spirit came alive when we left, just to have your moments. That time was just so screwed up that I realized later on that I dropped a lot of things that I couldn’t really manage at that time. Only did I realize it down the road when I saw the impact on some things. Alas, there were things that I should not have been managing during your time in those facilities. I am so thankful some of those things are so far removed from my life, never to appear again. I know that I visited you as much as I could’ve while working full time. I am grateful you were so close and that I could just hang there and spend quiet time. I still can’t wrap my head you being gone so young. I think I could’ve handled it if you were like 70, but not 61. It’s amazing how many terrible human beings God let hang around this planet for years. In my head it’s a punishment. I said to a friend about someone who was very bad to her. He’s going to be left here to feel the wrath of his actions. We all just miss your warmth. Chrissy had cooked up the last of your gravy. The aroma filling her apartment and that sense of warmth that you brought to our house. That feeling of love, support, care and comfort that you always managed to create in any room; not just the kitchen. I remember how meticulous you were when you would make my bed growing up. Like I was in the military, but it created a memory that is always good for me. I can even remember my NFL sheets. I wish I had a lot more video of you just being you. I am going to try and get my two other iphones in to see what might be on them from you. I guess I thought we had a lot more time. Here I thought I had about 20 more years of you. It’s like I am living two lives. The one before and the one after. Some days I just want you to call or you to stop by. I have lots of reminders, but sometimes they just make it harder. I don’t know how people make it out of this darkness. Maybe they’re able to come to terms with it quicker. I am happy I am able to do the normal things life asks of us. Ok Mom. I will talk to you soon. Love Bobby



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