i'm proud of you, jules

snapshots of moments that fill my cup,

tidbits, clips, stolen seconds that brighten my day,

and make my life worth living.

it feels dramatic to say that,

but some people can make time spent feel like a painting,

vibrant and watercolor.

revisiting the memories - a pleasure and something to fondly hold near.

this sunday we're finally burying my dad.

he didn't want to be buried,

he talked about that.

he said he didn't want to be six feet under.

but i think maybe it's because life made him feel that way while he was living it,

that he desired a different kind of freedom in death.

i like to draw solace in the fact that he found peace in retirement,

that he saw the good in his beloved melrose being dissolved,

and finally found the time to do the things that brought him joy.

he started a model train set in the basement.

finding the small materials that provided all the tender loving details,

to finally sustain his inner child.

both the time,

energy,

and resources to create, to explore, to wonder again.

he loved watching channel 13, he'd learn so many things.

whether it was about a lost city,

the galaxies, or the human anatomy.

i'll have to write some words for him,

so that it's not just tears and heavy hearts.

this felt like a good prototype.

i am grateful for the words you gifted me with before you left.

and for always bearing the hardest things alone.

you tried so hard to shield me from the world,

instead of sharing the lessons you'd learned the hard way.