It was one year ago today that I saw my Grandfather alive for the last time. Although most would morn his passing on the 21st, I find today to be so much harder than the next.

Three hundred and sixty eight days ago my gut told me something big was about to happen. It told me to visit my Grandfather at home with my family to celebrate his 92nd birthday before being admitted to the hospital the following morning for an experimental procedure. After years of bitterness and resentment, this visit felt so very important to me. So, we went over with all the kids to give him a special birthday card.

This visit was so much more memorable for my kids than they had had before. My Grandpa hadn't felt well in the last few years and couldn't handle company for long. He'd get short of breath and tired out not long after our arrival. What I anticipated would be a brief visit turned into an hour long play session on the floor with Dzia Dzia. His eyes were big and warm and he was delighted to see them. Everyone had such a great time. I left that night with a sense of unrealistic hope that once he got home and recovered that we could continue to rebuild our strained relationship.

For the next two days my Dad called in a few times with updates. To this point all seemed to have gone well and he was slowly recovering. My kids had made him homemade pictures to put up in his hospital room for something to make him feel better. My Dad had brought it to him to show him, but he wasn't quite with it enough to really look at it just yet. Thanks ok, he can see it when he's feeling better, right?

8:00 a.m. on the 20th I got a phone call from my Dad. He didn't even have to tell me, I could tell by the sound of his voice that it was serious. I jumped in the shower and ran out the door to get downtown to the hospital. When I arrived there was a somber tone that lingered in the air. When I asked to see my Grandpa I had no idea what I'd be walking into. There laid a man, so strong who fought everything life had given him, helpless. I held his hand and stroked his hair letting him know that I was there. On the wall were my kids' pictures that he hadn't even seen. I begged him to wake up to see them with no response. I stood there next to him praying he heard me and told him everything I felt he needed to hear from me. Still to this day I have no idea if he did and I battle the guilt of my tardiness.

I spent the whole day there. I didn't want to go anywhere. I felt like I owed him that much. I talked about the kids, his visitors, we even watched the Tigers game. This is my last memory of him. I was asked to leave the hospital shortly after. It was getting late. I knew I shouldn't have left, for he still had not woken up.

I shot up out of my sleep at 1:26 a.m. with a sense of horror. I called my Aunt who had stayed behind to see how he was doing. I was just minutes too late. Calling my father was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm not sure if he knew already or not, to be honest I don't remember anything that was said. That's probably a good thing.

Life has continued on for one year and I still can't seem to shake it. I never thought I'd be as broken as I feel still to this day. I still dream of his voice, so vivid it's shakes me to the core in the middle of the night. I still think about it every day and still battle holding back the tears at the mention of his name. I selfishly wish I could have gotten further with my apologies and had just a little more time like we had our last vist. I've come to wonder if he knew that night would be the last time he saw us. Part of me hopes this wasn't true, for if it was I wish he would have prepared me. The last year has just tore me apart, and no miracle can ever fix it to change that.

Dear God,
Please tell my Grandpa the kids say "hi". Please tell him I love him and miss him so very much. Please tell him I'm sorry. Please tell him today like I asked you yesterday, the day before that, and for the last 362 days before that.

Fate over Failure. Homebound.

The year 2012 has been one of many blessings; I married my soul mate, I fulfilled my dream of horse ownership, and we're expecting the last of our broad in December. If you would have asked me a week ago if I could be any luckier, my answer would have been "no". Everything in my life has seemed to work itself out. Well, except for the whole house hunting thing...

Since my first born emerged in 2006 I promised her I'd make sure she had the best that I could give her. One of those things I took to heart was the promise of moving to my home town where they have excellent schools and is the safest place I know. I've been trying ever since with nothing but failure. Sure, I've found dozens of homes I wanted to own,  just none of them have ever worked out. After years of searching I was starting to get so discouraged. Why was it so much harder for me to go back to the island? Why couldn't I give my kids a house like the one I grew up in? It was an amazing home that has haunted me since the day I left it. I yearn all the time for it. I dream about it almost weekly. I have nightmares that I'm finally back inside and it's being taken away from beneath me, or that I get it back and the inside has been so jacked up it's unrecognisable. For that reason I drive by it all the time and wonder what it looked like inside. For 20 years I've let it consume me. I'd love to give them that. I've day dreamed and lately seriously considered having my real estate agent walk up to their door and hand them an offer. It's just a dream, those people will never leave that house. Their boys grew up there, it's their home now. I'd love to give them a home we could spread out in. Six people crammed in a 1,500 sq. ft, 3 bedroom ranch on 0.15 acres just isn't enough anymore. You definitely walk out of here with a complete understanding of what it feels like to be claustrophobic.

As Kellan approaches Kindergarten I've been antsier than ever to get myself in gear. Luckily, the school district over there has given her a temporary district approval to get her started. We have one year to move or she goes into the lotto for school of choice. On top of that, I've been given professional advice that one year is not enough, that she needs to be waiting for the school bus the first day of school and continue to do so from here on out. I've been stressed to max trying to get myself together to make this happen. It was now June and I had no leads. There has been nothing on the market in our price range to even attempt to purchase. Everything that goes up comes down and sells within a week. I've been so frustrated and nervous and have avoided even bothering to look online to see what's on there. I already knew what I'd find. Nothing.

But a week ago I had a couple extra quiet minutes and thought I'd look once more. I don't know why I bothered, but I did. What I found shocked me and momentarily left me with goose bumps. All my hair stood on end and I froze. When I finally processed a thought again my face was soaked. I picked up the phone and called my Dad screaming and crying, for hell had just frozen over. I had the hardest time spitting the words out and he could barely understand me over the hysterics. I finally got the words out that I need to get out: "Daaaaad! The Lowrie house... it's for sale!" I wasn't sure what act of God had just happened, but I immediately understood what this meant for me. After years of searching and everything falling through, after quietly wishing for this house instead, fate had stepped in when I needed it the most. Maybe.

I hung up the phone with my father and called my agent. I had stopped hysterically crying, but was still screaming like a teenage cheerleader. I had even talked about this house to her before, so she knew the importance of my call. Within ten minutes she had called me back and was on her way to the house. We all made a mad dash for the car to get there as fast as we could. As we entered the front doors I went weak in the knees. I was overwhelmed with a sense of comfort. Walking around to all the rooms I knew every nook and cranny in that house. I knew what exactly had changed and what remained the same. I knew that house better than any write up you could have handed me. My piece of heaven, my utopia was still basically the same. As I walked around in awe I noticed my kids doing the same. Normally they are balls of anxiety just like me looking in someone else's home and trying to figure out how we'd adapt. It wasn't anything like that this time. They were just as calm as I was. Jim seemed at peace too, and truly liked the home as well. I could see the wheels turning in his head with all that property and space. My own wheels were at super speed. I had visions of Kellan waiting for the bus on her first day of school there just as I did. How perfect. It's perfect.

I cried the rest of that afternoon into the night. It was so unbelievable I could barely hold it in. I was so taken back and yet so scared. Until this point nothing had worked out for us, not in the least bit. I knew that either this was fate, or the meanest trick life could ever play on me. If it were the latter I knew I was in for a serious emotional breakdown. Watching another family move in and lose the chance to myself would kill me. I barely slept that night.

Call it fate. I put an offer on it. As of this morning it was accepted. We close August 16th. I'm packing up my family and I'm going home.

Scratch One Off The Bucket List

Over the last 20+ years I have had a passion: I love to ride. I did everything I could to get the chance. It was never easy having the opportunity to do so. I took lessons here and there and went to a couple riding camps. I never freely rode, did 4H, or placed in any show. In fact, I've never been to a show. See, to become a great rider takes years of commitment and diligence. I never had the stability growing up at home to follow it how I should have. For years I ached all over for a horse.
One of my fondest memories of my Grandfather is sitting in the living room of the most happiest place on Earth watching the horse channel. We'd sit and watch the horse auctions for HOURS, commenting on every horse that came up for bid, eating bowls of ice cream and worrying about absolutely nothing. My Grandpa would give me the classifieds from the local paper and have me check the horse section. He used to tell me how bad he wanted to own one again, but deep down he knew he was too old and nothing ever came of it. Before I understood life and it's responsibilities I'd get so hurt that it never happened. I wanted one so bad. Still to this day I daydream of being up at Grandpa's, free riding his acreage on a beautiful horse in the sunlight until my heart's content. Years ago it felt like such a possibility, at times so close I could feel it. I loved it up there, it was my safe haven. These days it's nothing short of a pipe dream. My favorite place has also become my Achilles tendon, a place of vulnerability and hurt.
Months ago Kellan started asking me if she could take riding lessons. When she turned 5 I got her started. Her very first lesson went so well. She's a good rider. She had absolutely no fear. The more I watched her ride the heavier the yearn got to be back in that world again.  So I made a decision that I was going to look into owning. I know that I only have so many good riding years left myself, and the kids had a whole future ahead of them to. I knew that if I didn't do it now I probably never would. I started looking around and could not find the right horse. That is, until I found Booker...
Meet "Booker T.", a southern gentlemen straight from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia. On the outside he might be a 16.1 hands Tennessee Walker mix, but on the inside he's a gentle giant and part lap dog. The first time I saw him I was smitten. Until now I've never actually gotten close to any particular horse.When you jump around riding facilities you ride whatever horse they put you on, and to that animal you're a dime a dozen. I've never felt a horse as smooth and soft to the touch as he is. I bear hugged him and didn't want to let go. I could spend all day just touching his face and playing with his mane. The kids love him and he seems to be fond of them too. He already seems to know us. As you round the corner to enter his stables there is a long row of horses. When they hear you coming they all stick their heads out to see who's the lucky one to see its owner. There is a sea of brown and black horse heads hanging out and at the very end peaking around is this beautiful, big, white and dappled creature with excitement in his eye to see us. It utterly leaves a lump in my throat.
How exciting it is to finally achieve this life long goal. I'm rather proud of myself for making this happen. I was so nervous and anxious waiting for him to arrive, and now I can relax and enjoy my dream. I so badly wish I could pick up the phone and tell my Grandfather all about it. Unfortunately, that number is no longer in service.

Introducing......

Hyvää Syntymäpäivää Busia!

Happy Birthday to You,

Happy Birthday to You,

Happy 90th Birthday our Dear Busia!

Happy Birthday to You!

 

This year would be my Grandmother's 90th birthday.

The sun is shining, the temperature outside is perfect, and the smell of fall is in the air. I'm trying my hardest to make this day the happier of the two days that seem to weigh so heavy on me, but it's proving to be more difficult than usual. Not only is it my Grandmother's birthday today, it is my Grandfather's birthday as well. He's 92. Unfortunately this morning he was admitted to the hospital in preparation for an exploratory heart surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning. In fact, he's in surgery now getting a temporary pacemaker for the procedure. Not only does he have to spend this day alone without her, he has to do it utterly alone in a hospital room. He didn't get to visit her. This really bothers me to the core. Happy Birthday to him too, huh? What a crappy birthday present. This year is far from normal. You can just feel it.

Regardless, I brought my usual single stemmed red roses over to my Grandmother and wished her a happy birthday with the kids. We cleaned up her stone for her special day as Colin "fluffed" up the heads of our roses. Kellan of course had her usual laundry list of questions to ask about her Busia and needed to once again be shown where heaven is. "If she comes back to us you won't have to miss her anymore. I know you really miss her Mommy, I do too. Maybe we should leave her a picture of our house so she knows where to find us."

Here is our home Grandma. Feel free to stop by any time you'd like. Our door is always open for you. I wish it were as simple as Kellan sees it. I'd love to have a visit.

Arlene Elaine Taurence

September 18th, 1921

"Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday dear Colin!

Happy Birthday to You!"

 

Chapter 3: "Mama! Bu-yoon!"

Today marks the end of the second chapter in the Story of Colin, and we're well on our way into the third. As I've watched my son grow and develop this year I'm truly amazed at his abilities. He's fearless, fun, and so very intelligent. He's made some wonderful discoveries in his world. He's figured out how to drive, what outlets are for, and the marvel that are "poley poleys!"

By year's end Colin definitely has his own likes. Of course there's Mater, McQueen, and the awesome Finn McMissle. He'll tell you how "cool" they are. He's a dipper like his big sister and loves cheese. His favorite book is "Pout-Pout Fish" and sleeps with it at night. In fact, he's worn the binding down to nothing. The boy is a water magnet. He's become such a brave swimmer. He loves speed and will jump on anything to take it for a ride. He'd sleep "ow-si" all night if it meant he didn't have to come inside, ever. Bubble Guppies is his favorite show. His sisters are his best friends. He'll point out every bird, plane, and cloud in the sky. When he's excited he points for "Mama! Mama! Mommy! See?", especially when it involves BUGS! He'd have a "poley poley" farm if there was such a thing. He's happiest when they're crawling all over his hand and intertwining through his fingers. If spotted in the wild he hunkers down like an ostrich and gazes at them in their natural element, our driveway cracks.

I love my son more than words can say. Each day when he wakes up I can't wait to smooch him. He never ceases to amaze me. The smell of his hair is one of my favorite scents. I adore my little boy. Happy Birthday Big Boy Colin!

"A Day Late and A Dollar Short, But Hey, Who's Counting?"

There are two days during the year that I tend to get overly sedimental on. It's not that I scratch these dates out on my calendar with huge sad faces to remember the day is to suck, it just happens. No matter how good my intentions are I seem to remember the date the moment I open my eyes. I find that strange since most mornings I can't remember what day of the week it is.

This weekend was my Grandmother's 89th birthday. Well, what would have been her 89th birthday. No matter how much I tell myself that of my two days this is the happier of the two, I still carry a small lump in my throat until I finally fall asleep at night. Even though in theory I celebrate this day, I mourn it as well. Truth is I miss the woman and feel very cheated that we aren't sitting around eating some cheap box cake from Krogers with a large load of candles on it. I wish I was taking video of my kids clapping to "Happy Birthday" on her lap. I'd love to buy her the most mushy card Hallmark had to offer. I wonder what that would be like.

As this day passes I know the next one nears. Thankfully it's not until snow starts to fall that it starts to swallow me whole.

I'd love to give my Grandmother on large, loud,  Happy Birthday from myself and my children. Even though you have passed you are loved, missed, and cherished each day.

This is my son earlier this week. It's amazing isn't it? Wait, you don't understand why? Let me enlighten you... I never taught him how to push around a car. In fact, I never even showed him the huge drawer of cars we own in the playroom. His sister was looking for something and just happened to hand him one and walk away. Are you starting to get my drift? He innately knew exactly what to do. 

Somehow both my children have caught on to gender specific activities and ran with them. My daughter figured out princesses without me. I was never a huge fan of the whole Disney princess line. I always thought they were dorky. I never liked Mickey Mouse novelties, not even as a child. I remember when I was little thinking it just wasn't for me. Kellan's love for the rodent was all on her own. Now Colin has a love for cars and trucks without my mapping out how to get there.

That amazes me. The first time I saw him drag a car across the floor I had chills. That first morning he played with that car from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm. Kellan and I sat on the floor for over an hour with him faking crashes, parking them in his Little People car garages (which were cousin Riley's. Again, not me), driving them across the floor, rolling them to each other, and making motor noises. He LOVED it. He was in his own little form of heaven on Earth. I've never seen him so excited. He's never really latched on to any specific toy or catagory of toy until now. People have started to ask me what I think he might like for his first birthday and at first I really didn't know. He didn't have any real likes. Now? I have a laundry list of things I know he'd enjoy. It almost gives me a sense of comfort, like now I know my son.  I'm not guessing what I think he might like anymore. It makes me happy. He makes me happy. I'm diggin' him even more :)

Just Another Milestone to Scratch Off the List...

I've known my son had wings sticking out the sides of his head for some time now. I've had them pointed out to me more times than I can count. "Gee, thanks, I see him every day and never noticed", right? I knew he needed a haircut, I just didn't want it to be this soon. But with his first birthday pictures coming up and a wedding to attend this weekend, I gave in and finally took him. 

My heart sank the moment he was finished. He did an excellent job holding still all by himself. He smiled continuously through the whole ordeal. I wasn't worried one bit that he'd cry and scream. But when I saw him for the first time with his "big boy" haircut I was taken off guard. He seemed to have grown in those five minutes he sat in that chair. He looks so darn handsome. He melted my heart before and somehow he melts it even more now. 

Just another milestone to scratch off the list....

"....And Mio Is The Place, Yo!"

Last week my sister Emily and I headed up to our family's cabin in podunk Mio, Michigan to have some getaway fun with our kids. Let me tell you what... you CAN have fun with 3 adults, 5 children and 2 dogs in a one bedroom, one bathroom cinder block cabin by the river! Other than becoming mildly obsessed with the card game Skip-Bo (which is a whole other topic of conversation due to it's intense mental and strategical thought when playing with my brother-in-law Ron), I came back more relaxed then when I left. I'd say that's a winning outcome, right? Score. Here are some photographic highlights:

P.S. I would TOTALLY post the AWESOME picture I captured of all the kids jammed into the one stall shower all naked and soapy, but I am not one for "soap on a rope". If you see me, I'll be glad to show you in person. But I will put pretty stickers over winkies first....

An End To A Great School Year

Today is Kellan's last day of preschool. Although part of me is relieved that I don't have to truck it to the island for a few months, a big part of me is so sad for her. When Kellan started in September she was a special acceptance. Instead of being 3 by December 1st, they let her come in at two and a half. Although it didn't seem like a big deal at the time, I came to realize what a huge disadvantage it was for her. All the other kids in her class where a full year older than her. For months she didn't really seem to make any new friends. My heart used to ache when I'd spy on her and see her all alone. Over the past few months her "briends" have been so good to her. I've watched friendships blossom and I have nurtured them to the fullest of my ability. She talks about them every day and can't wait for the next day of school. 

So why so sad? Kellan will be repeating the 3's again. All her friends are moving up to the 4's. She won't see her friends anymore and I won't see their parents. They're my friends too. Telling her this is her last day with them and kissing her goodbye ripped my heart in two. I realize it's just preschool, but those kids really are bonded. I know she's going to ask about them over the summer. I know when she walks in to her first day next year she'll expect to see them and instead be jarred by all new faces. Hopefully she will see it as making more friends and not new ones. That's all a Mommy can hope for.

Happy 10 Months Little Booger Fart!

(and remember.... we had a deal. You are to stay like this forever. 

And ever.)

Defying the "Little" in "Little Dude"

My precious little chunk-a-monk has decided to be a big boy this past week. Last Thursday he started crawling, Friday he popped his top front tooth and learned how to dance. Saturday he popped the one to the right of that. Sunday he popped the left front tooth. Today he fancies the crab walk.

It hit me like a ton of bricks this afternoon that he's almost 1. ONE! My last little baby is exploding into a big boy. My kids bleed Miracle Grow. If I only knew the secret to reverse that effect and keep them tiny. I love my son. I'm not looking forward to the day where Mommy is no longer "cool" to snuggle and hug. The thought literally takes my breath away.

Well Hello Blogspot, I Finally Got Somethin' For Ya

It occurred to me the other day that it's been a REALLY long time since I had blogged last. To be honest, I really haven't had anything major happen accompanied by photographic evidence for me to share with the world. Until tonight. Let me get you up to speed:

I LOVE to scrapbook. It's therapeutic relief, an adrenaline rush,  and major stress all at the same time. I love a little time alone letting out creativity in a positive outlet. I get a rush when I create something I'm happy with. I get frustrated, stressed out, and just down right pissed when a page doesn't go my way. But, I absolutely love it and don't get to do it often enough.

Except for this week. This week has been jammed packed with the hobby like you wouldn't believe. I was appointed a project for Kellan's school to make both her teacher and the teacher's aide scrapbooks to spotlight all the children enrolled for "Teacher Appreciation Week" gifts.. My front room looks like little elves threw papers and stickers and punchers and glue sticks EVERYWHERE. It's been a mess. And the whole time I've been working on it I've had a set of pretty little blue eyes watching me. 

So this afternoon I had to make my second trip to the scrap store to grab more supplies. Kellan found her niche in this store. She picked out a few supplies of her own to use at home. I set her up on my table and away she went. I can officially announce that Kellan has created her first scrapbook page. It's a huge honor for me. She genuinely did a beautiful job. I'd have her help me any day, and I plan to. Her page is now her title page in her special book.... (Uh, that's a BIG deal!)

Throw Your Hands Up And SHOUT!

Have you ever had a moment where something so minuscule, yet so infinitely important all at the same time, took your breath away? Today, I did.

At 7 months and 21 days old, Colin said "Ma-ma". If you even knew what I've gone through in this amount of time you'd understand how much it made my heart melt. 

To be honest I haven't seen my son much lately. I've been in bed recooping from a Cholecystectomy from hell. I was finally starting to truly enjoy my son (after months of colic), and frankly, was really happy to be doing so. I have missed my kids so much these last two weeks and worried about losing some closeness with them. Hearing my little Nugget say my name has made the last two miserable weeks suddenly disappear. 

Got 'em!

Colin has now popped another tooth today and I still have yet to document the first. For being an overly obsessive recorder and scrapbooker, I sure am being such a bad Mom. But alas, I finally got a photo....

 

P.S. Ignore my fingers.

Just To Brighten One's Day...

We Hit A Big Milestone!

My Nugget popped his first tooth!

At 6 months, 29 days old, Colin popped his lower front left tooth.

It's not so easy getting a photo of a little jagged tooth bud, but as soon as it becomes visible on camera I'll post that son of a gun as fast as possible!

In spite of being late: Goodbye 2009, Hello 2010!

The year 2009 has been are very hard year for me. I've seen laughter, pain, joy, sorrow, and confusion. I've been up and I've been far down. I have questions that I will never get the answers to. I've seen the best souls taken and the worst grow stronger.


Despite it all, I am thankful for a few things this year. Most of all I'm thankful to have my kids. They mean the absolute world to me and nothing less. In July I was blessed with the birth of my son, Colin. Despite having 7 months of crazy pregnancy hormones and 5 months (and counting) trying to understand them, I wouldn't change it for the world. Sure, my little man cries and cries and cries until I'm on the brink of tears. I'm tired and a little worn, but his smile alone melts me to the floor. At 6 months old, he finds sneezing hilarious. He is starting to sit up on his own like a big boy. He's even starting to sleep through the night most nights. He has the most kissable toes like his sister. And boy, is he a chunk! He's so handsome and I love him to death.


Kellan is growing into a beautiful, wonderful, confident little girl. Although I still try to sneak in some cuddle time with her like she were still my little baby girl, she has gotten so big. She has become the best big sister to her baby brother. She adores him every waking moment they have together. She started preschool with the big kids in September and it's made a world of difference. The child that never left my side is eager to start circle time on school days. She makes the most beautiful projects for Mommy to hang up at home. She's confident in all that she learns. She's made new friends. She was invited to her first real birthday party that wasn't for one of her cousins. In fact, she's been to three. Not only was that a learning experience for Kellan, but Mommy is now learning the true meaning of being "Kellan's Mom" and seeing where I fit in the outside world. She's potty trained. The child that I thought for sure would leave college in diapers now picks out her own big girl panties. She's starting to have a sense of humor and create her own jokes. She says the word "booger" clearer than ever. She loves to have her nails painted at all times, and if you call her she'll show you her pretty toes through the phone.


My resolution for 2010 will be to find myself again. Although I'm confident in my abilities to be a mother and carry out my duties as such, I need to find who Allison is again. Only time and patience will tell.

Twenty Two Years And Another Generation Later

It's been twenty two years to the day since my paternal Grandmother has passed away. Each year my father's family attends a Catholic mass at my Grandfather's church to pay their respects to her. It's kind of a big deal for us. This year? Both my kids woke up with pink eye this morning. I wasn't able to go.

The thought of staying home really made me sad. Even though I was only four when she died I seem to have put my Grandmother on a pedestal long ago. At 26, I think that pedestal is as high as the heavens. When I was 14 I legally added her name, Arlene, as my middle name (I was born without one). When I had my first child, a girl, it only seemed appropriate to pass that along. Her middle name is my Grandmother's middle name, Elaine. My father, myself, and my daughter look a lot like her. Even though I am closer to my mother's side of the family, I tend to identify myself a lot with her. It's a big reason why I dread December 15th of every year.

I couldn't stay home. I packed my goobery kids up in the car and headed to the cemetery. On the way there we stopped and picked out three red roses from each of us so we didn't go empty handed. I was excited to take Kellan there. It's only been lately that she's understood what Grandma's and Grandpa's are and their place in our family. I have a photo of my Grandmother hanging in the family room and she knows that's her Grandma "Busia" Arlene. I was proud to take her there and show her, even though I knew it would be over her head.

After Kellan picked out the flowers I was putting the kids back in the car when Kellan says "Almost there. Going to Grandma Arlene's house". I explained to Kellan that her Grandma had passed away and that we're going to visit her grave. When we got there I put the flowers on her stone and cleaned it up a bit before we left. As we were about to drive away I hear Kellan in the back "Goodbye Grandma Arlene. I love you. Merry Christmas." and blew her a kiss. I just about died in the front seat. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut just before and elephant danced on my chest. It took everything I had to smile and not start crying. At that moment it hit hard that my Grandma will never meet my children, and my children will never meet their Great Grandma that I cherish. Driving away I would have given just about anything in the world for Kellan to have 5 minutes to meet her.

Merry Christmas Grandma

September 18th, 1921 - December 15th, 1987