Celebrate

Daylight Savings Time my ass.  Fall back, gain an hour of sleep, blah blah blah.  Spring doesn't get to me, but this falling back an hour messed up my sleep schedule.  It wasn't the extra shots of espresso, or the random craving for a Coke at 8 last night.  It was the damn time change, and that's the story I'm going to stick with.

That being said, you would think four hours of broken sleep would have me walking around in a daze and incredibly cranky.  And it very well could have, but in one of those moments of staring off into the dark last night, I decided Monday morning would include walking.

I've taken up walking at the rec center on work mornings to get an extra oomph factor going in my day.  Typically, with Monday being my day off, and a gathering for coffee at the local coffee shop early in the morning, I would skip the walking.  But, bleary eyed and not feeling the espresso I already had at home, I hauled my ass to the rec center and walked without a partner and just a very bouncy playlist going in the earbuds.

The day is significant...it is the 4th anniversary of my grandmother's death.  I still think of her daily, and feel her influence on my life.  Her death was one of the most precious moments in my life.  How many people can call the passing of a loved one such a thing?  I got the privilege of being at her bedside for the last three days of her life.  Surrounded by family, supporting each other, laughter and tears, and quietly saying goodbye as she took her last breath.  It gave me something no other life experience has.  Along with all the lessons this courageous, independent, devoted woman taught me in her gentle ways, I was able to give back by being at her side in her last moments on earth.  It was beautiful.  It was precious.  It was worth celebrating.

Yes, celebrating. 

Though I grieved, I rejoiced at having had such a special woman in my life.  I choose to honor her in living the fullest life I can.  I embrace the fiercely independent, stubborn, wild streak in me, because I know she lived the same.  I grab each day by the balls and try to squeeze the everloving hell out of it, because in doing so, I represent her legacy. 

In her death, I learned to celebrate life.  I dance randomly.  I get silly.  I laugh.  I have stopped taking this very short time on earth so seriously, and learned how to cherish it without feeling the heavy burdens our own brains can put on living.

I miss you, Grandma.  And I thank you, for making me a better and more authentic ME.