Grief & Gratitude
As I stood in the living room and stared at the seat he once occupied, I couldn't help but notice the emptiness. He was bigger than life to me. My uncle by choice. Always the life of the party. And every time you went to his house, with the exception of a warm, summer day, the wood stove was always going. Always warm and inviting. Just like him. Just like his heart. You felt at home every time you stepped in. Every time he gave you a hug. It's who he was. But now... oh, how the irony hit me like a ton of bricks: the first visit over to this house since his passing and the wood stove that once spoke all things cozy, was now cold and lifeless. The house had a slight chill. And so did my heart. It felt a bit less warm as well. A sadness pervading it as we gathered to share a meal while fully aware that we are all missing something special because he isn't here. Someone asked me the other day how I'm doing these days and my reply was, I'm grieving but also grateful ...
