and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

It's been two years without my grandfather now. More than two, but two Father's Day in particular. I always used to get him a card and chocolate covered cherries; they were his favorite, but he'd rarely buy them for himself. I still miss him. I try to hold on to the nuance of his voice and the feel of his hugs, his wry humor and gentle stoic outlook. It's strange for me to think about how much has happened since the last time we talked, how much he hasn't been here for. I'm grateful that he isn't in pain anymore, isn't sick anymore, but god. I miss him.

My own father I have many feelings about, but lately it's been hard to remember I love him. I suppose it's sad, but I've come to accept that the best lesson he can give me is an object lesson in how not to live my life -- a terrible note to end on, but I am running out of steam. Too meany sad thoughts. Time for some sleep and a better tomorrow.