Living away from family and never knowing what the military will throw at you brings its ups and downs, but living in a beautiful place definitely eases the burden. After my grandad died this year, my great-grandma soon joined him. I was relieved, since she had suffered from dementia for so long, but my heart still ached knowing she wasn't on this Earth with us anymore. I remember simple things about her - her amazing jelly rolls and lemon tea, her plastic raincap, or how she always let me win in Monopoly. She was a prayer warrior and would pace the floor for hours, praying for loved ones and ones she didn't even know. I can
almost hear her voice singing "The Bears Went Over the Mountain," as we cuddled on the front porch swing. That is the hardest - forgetting the voice, the touch, the smell. But we never, ever forget the life...or the impact. How can we? It is a part of who we are.
Andrew, the boys and I recently started taking weekly strolls down to the bay by our neighborhood. We stand at the top of the rocks and show the boys Okaloosa Island, Destin and the Niceville Bridge...way in the distance. The salt air and sound of water, and its endlessness, brings me peace. The boys love to throw rocks in the water and spot the occasional boat. It's a happy place for us. Somehow, no matter what is going on in life, it reminds me to be grateful for this short, yet beautiful time, and for the people in it.
♥♥♥
