The short version is that I'm not, not really.
If I let my mind wander for even a minute I find myself overcome with tears. But I'm not crying, haven't cried since I got back to Louisiana.
We laugh and we smile and we try to make grandpa's last days here as painless and full of love as possible.
But it's hard.
When I feel myself begin to unravel, when I feel myself begin to tear up I imagine that I am, actually tearing in two. From just behind my eyes down my chest on through my stomach.
Then I imagine a giant needle and thread and I slowly loop a stitch around the tear. When I finish, usually up to about my throat, I take a deep breath and pull the thread tight.
It buys me a few more minutes to smile and laugh with grandpa.
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