If you're tired of starting over.. quit giving up..

I really should take my own advice - I just need to accept the fact that I am a TERRIBLE blogger! Oh well, I can't be awesome at everything...

So this is not me starting over, this is me carrying on. I need my blog, it's soothing for my soul, it's a great outlet for all my thoughts and emotions, and I really couldn't give a rats ass if anyone reads it  - I have found myself to be uptight and angry for no reason - I've been having dark grumpy days and instead of taking it out on Sophia and Josh, I vow to come here.. get it out of my system and carry on regardless.

It dawned on me while driving Sophia to school today, that I was too young to really appreciate and get to know my Granddad.  That's the thing about Grandparents, a lot of the time they are old while you are young - especially if you weren't born until your own mother was in her late 20's as mine was... My Nan, I feel that I knew, although not well enough. We used to be pen pals - living a few hours apart we didn't see each other but a few times a year, but through her treasured letters I feel that I still have a little part of her living with me. Through her own telling, and stories my mother and aunts have told me, I know what a magnificent woman she was.  She was a different generation - a generation that took nothing for granted and worked, seriously worked for everything they had, no matter how little.  AND I know how fiercely and incredibly proud she was of each and her children, grandchildren and GREAT grandchildren to boot.  My Nan died while I was pregnant with Sophia,  my last memory is of her in her hospital bed smiling that big huge knowing smile she had.. and asking me why I was so tired - I told her I was pregnant and her smile grew, a few minutes later we repeated the conversation, as we did a few minutes after that - the smile growing each time.  No one likes to remember anyone being sick and dying in hospital, although that's what she was, the smile is what I remember.

My Granddad I know little of - I have memories of him as I was 16 when  he passed, he was a quiet man and being only a child, I didn't feel it was my place to bother him - I figured he wanted to be left alone.  But now, being that much older, it breaks my heart that I don't know much about him at all. Because he didn't talk about himself (which in turn speaks volumes) or reminisce about the times gone by - a wealth of history and knowledge died along with him.  I was an inquisitive child, if only I had have used that curiousness where it counted most. The one piece of knowledge I have about my Granddad is that he would have laid his life on the line for anyone he cared about - he didn't have to tell me that, it's just the type of man he was. I'm sorry I didn't know you better.