It's been over two years now.

That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.

We survived the holidays. 

But more than that, we enjoyed the holidays. 

That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.

Keegan and Sutton had a rough go of it there for awhile.  One night, they sobbed uncontrollably for close to an hour because, "we miss Gwandma Cindy." Maybe they were just overly tired, or maybe they just knew what buttons to push... but it killed me. 

They still talk about her all the time, and pray every night for God to take care of her.

I'm walking a fine line.  I don't want to let them forget her, don't want to push her on them, so I'm letting them take the lead.  They will eventually change their prayers, and I think that will be a sad day for me.

We've had new life.  Her first great grandchild, and new generation of DRB, was born.  It's tragic that she's not here to be a Great Grandma in every sense of the word.

We've lost life.  My dear sweet Brodus T Wonderpup, the soul who was with her until the end, and waited with her patiently, watching over her until Karri arrived, wandered off before Christmas.  His health had been bad, his hearing gone, his poor little knees failing, but he was always the same "smiling Brodie".  I can only hope he passed as peacefully as she did.

In Sunday School a few weeks ago, they asked, "What is the hardest question someone has ever asked you?"

That answer was easy.  It's ALWAYS the questions I get about Mom

"How old is Grandma Cindy?" Keegan asked me recently.

I hate questions like that.  63?  Are we catching up to her?  Almost 66?  Do we pretend she's still aging with us?

Wish I had all the answers to give them, but I have too many of my own.