I got up early this morning to drive to north carolina- shook off a hangover with thin lizzy and doves on stereo. Along with my 23 hours of school a week, 25+ with work, planning travels in europe and grad school in the fall- preparing for my grandfather's funeral feels like a stick in the spokes. a humbling experience to say the least.
I took several photos. and watched him laying there- his eyes and lungs opened and closed together -stealing another moment of life and fighting the weight of their 86 years. over and over, i couldnt stop trying to imagine all that he was thinking...his first shave, an old girlfriend, or some distant vacation. Quietly and always the stoic, he is coming to terms with his final hours, but my god i cannot imagine the fear. I had to leave the room when i saw a glimpse of it come across his face- im sure he is scared- really fucking scared and weighted by the unknown that is soon to take him over. and you cant comfort anything like that. he is completely alone and it tears me apart.
