My grandfather died last night. He’s the guy standing on the right side of this picture in the flowered shirt. I took the image in March when we visited their nursing home in Wichita Falls.

He had been in a lot of pain, and just had surgery the week before. He hadn’t been able to eat in weeks. His passing gives him ease from all that.

Tomorrow I assume I will leave town, depending on the day of the funeral. It’s a hard time of year for me–I have 10 holiday shoots booked this weekend plus NaNo, a write-in I was in charge of and a photography class. But these things happen when they do. We rearrange our lives in honor of the lives that passed before us.

I wish before my grandfather died I could have told him to pick up our little baby Casey–well, gosh, I guess he’d be 8 by now and embarrassed by that–so maybe pat him on the shoulder, ruffle his hair. I’m always anxious when someone passes from this world to the next. It’s my chance to send along a message, my love, my missing my babies.

But because of all the good things in this world–love, support, care, empathy, understanding–I’m sure my grandfather already knows.

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