Nueve de Mayo.

Today is just a day. I try to remind myself that I'll get through it just like I did yesterday, and hopefully tomorrow. Life throws you curves sometimes, you've just have to learn to adapt. Things change so quickly, you blink, and you're living across the country and living this life that you totally didn't have planned for yourself. It's not all that bad, but it's not what you had pictured. But would life really be all that fun, if you planned out your whole life before hand? I enjoy the occasional screw up. We learn. It's hard, but we eventually come out on top. Without the screw ups, life would simply be boring.

So today of all days, I'm reminded that today is the 9th. The number 9 just won't leave my head. Today marks 8 months. 8 months ago, I lost my friend. 8 months ago, life through me that curve that I've tried so hard to adapt to. I've had 242 days to process this, and some days I think I'm fine. And then others I'll hear a phrase or see Bob Barker and want to cry. But as each days fades and is never to be seen again, I do know that I'm healing. It's a slow process, but I do know I'm moving in the right direction. Let's hope my right is the right direction.

My grandmother just recently was able to clean out his closet. Well I think I found something I'll treasure the rest of my life. My grandfather for as long as I can remember talked about his service to his country. I've heard stories about Vietnam, Korea, Germany, Malaysia, Japan, even the US. I've always imagined what it was like to be there, to feel what these men felt. I wish I could contact some of the men mentioned, just to know and put a face to the people he spoke so highly of, people who were his family during a portion of his life. So while digging through my grandfather's treasure's I found a package that had obviously been tucked away. I opened it, and found a timeline of pics of his time in the service. Pics of his ex-wife Elfie who was German, their adopted daughter Johanna. A daughter I have never met, I had never seen her, until recently. She's beautiful. Your typical tall, blue-eyed, blonde, bombshell. I just wish he hadn't been so stubborn and had the chance to reconcile with her. He would tell me all about her when I was little. He adored her, even after the fallout. Even after she chose to hate him. He loved her anyway. Always strong, a parent's love.
Each pic represents a different piece in the life of my grandfather. Some sad, others joyful. I'm quite fond of the pics of the Japanese orphanage. A place where I know from stories my grandfather loved to visit. He enjoyed mingling with the small children. Others are of the men I've heard so much about. I only wish I could place a name with a face. I'm so drawn to these pictures. No wonder he put them away. It would have been too much.

8 months without you...