saying goodbye.

i've never been good at goodbyes.

i remember years ago my mom and brother dropping me off at my college dorm for the very first time. as i pulled back into my hometown a month later, it suddenly dawned on me that life had forever changed. i walked inside my mom's house and ran straight into her arms.

the years after college were no easier, in that respect. i moved down south and eagerly started a new life outside of kansas. visits home for the holidays were great but saying goodbye at the end was torture.

about the time when it started to become easier was about the time when i decided to move back.

leaving a life i had created for the past several years was not easy for me. i decided to move back to the midwest which also meant saying goodbye to my southern sidekick of 6 years/soul mate/roommate/business partner, heather.

thankfully, dad was there to help with my move, but more importantly, be my support. dad can't talk about that day without choking up. he witnessed it all which included a tearful heather at 6am seeing us off with a box of donuts.

i miss her every day. and although we're not partners-in-crime running around savannah, i know she'll forever be in my life. until death do us part.

now tomorrow, i have to say a different kind of goodbye. this one may very likely be forever.

my grandmother is 99 years old. she has overcome breast cancer and losing her husband (among many other things). i'm constantly amazed by her strength and resilience. plus, she's a real firecracker. i love that.

grandma is not well. i'm trying to prepare myself.

something great will be lost without her here. she is the core of our family. she provided a warm home and some of the best childhood memories were had on that farm in rural kansas. grandma's pancakes and fried chicken, homemade ice cream, catching fire flies, playing tag on the hay bails, sledding, building forts in the woods ...

not to mention, she raised my dad. he's pretty amazing.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

i won't.

i'll always remember.

my bags were all packed, but before i could get out the door dad called to tell me she passed early the next morning.