I have tried to write this post several times now. And yet, it hasn't gotten any easier to type or think through.
At the point where my own life has started to grow and bloom, I am being faced with the fragility of life in the face of my mother's stage 4 cancer and now, my grandfather's imminent death.
How is it that joy and excitement and hope and laughter can sit side-by-side with regret and sorrow and mourning? Or that bills and budgets and grocery store lists must continue to be attended to while dreams or fears or uncertainties take over my mind.
But life ... my life ... goes on. And, as I look back over the past four years, and especially the past six months or so, I find that I have changed, even as I think I am not changing. I have changed. It is almost surreal. But no, it is very, very real.
I think it is all just called "growing up."