reality is hard

This post was started in May. Decided to pick it back up today... it seemed fitting.



What do I have to be thankful for? Too many things to mention.
Why, then, does sorrow still come?

Reality is that we are human, we are imperfect, we fail and we love. Those things are hard. I desire to save myself and others from pain, but that is not possible.

People we love leave this life and people we love live this life differently than we would hope.

This may seem negative or sad, but it's a process. I'm in the midst of processing some aspects of life that aren't incredibly smile-inducing and that's OK.

Here's the update portion that those of you that know me will be able to connect:
My Grandpapa passed on to life eternal this month. I went home to see him off and be with my family as we made preparations for his memorial service. I parted ways with a man that I love tremendously and am trying to respect the hole he left in my heart all while continuing to live my life. My Grandpapa was present. I grew up with him as a constant in my life. Many childhood weekends and afternoons were spent with Grandpapa. He was the Patriarch of the family, and as stubborn as he could be, we placed him in power. It was deserved him. He worked hard to love his wife, raise his family, be engaged in life fully and make his mark on this world. I trusted my Grandpapa fully. Sure, I learned things in college that made me aware of our differences in opinions, but that didn't change my willingness to sit with him and hear his piece. He mattered. I learned from my dad that Grandpapa was important. The time and energy that my dad invested in Grandpapa was astounding. He always knew how he was doing and what was new in his life; Grandpapa felt the same way about my dad... they let each other in. I watched my dad carefully during my time at home. There were times of deep sorrow and times of joy as he attempted to move through this gaping hole. I respect him even more now than I did before.



The seasons are changing here. The trees and lakes show no sign of it, yet a transition is in the works. Another summer has ended to make way for the approaching autumn. Most of the summer staff have made their treks homeward and I find myself left in the wake; again, navigating that gaping hole. In less than 3 days we'll be welcoming students to spend four months with us and I'm not sure if I'm ready. This semester marks my last season with Summit Adventure. Come the New Year, I will be trekking homeward as well. Opportunity, family and the unknown beckon me. Georgia will be home again and life will look different.

I'm surrounded by newness. Six families in my life are getting ready to have their first baby! Four of those are in my community here, in California. One is in North Carolina and one is my brother and sister-in-law in Georgia. With this, I feel a bit of a rejuvenated hope. I could move into talking about hope for the future of our world, but that would take too much time and energy at this point. Two things I'm lacking at the moment. The short-term hope is beautiful, too. Hope that I'll get to meet these Californian babies before I go and hope that I'll get to have a special relationship with my first niece through being closer to them in Georgia.

The cohesiveness of this writing is going downhill fast, therefore I'll call it complete. Even though, it's quite imperfect and quite unfinished.