According to the Internet it’s been a whole two months since I posted.

Wow.

I honestly didn’t realize it had been that long, but I promise I have solid reasoning.

Mostly, these past two months have been just exhausting.

There’s been fun exhaustion: a Struts/Foo Fighters show, Nashville eats, a Reckless Kelly show, Nashville drinks, movie nights and good books.

There’s been wonderful exhaustion: Brody decided he was ready to be baptized and got dunked in the creek behind my parents house.

There’s been exciting/stressful home improvement exhaustion which have me very happy for summer and much less stressed when it storms.

There’s been the typical work grind, my house is never clean enough and end-of-the school year, and life in general exhaustion.

But then there’s been the worst kind of exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that comes when you have to say a final goodbye to someone you love.

My family has had that exhaustion this week with the passing of my sweet granny.

Now, I’m getting close to 40 and I absolutely realize how fortunate I was to still have a living grandparent, much less one like my granny.

She was honestly one of the best people that ever lived. (And while, yes, I’m incredibly biased, this isn’t just my opinion.)

She loved her family: my grandfather, her kids, grandchildren and everyone else lucky enough to be related to her and the Lord, her job and her community. But most of all, she loved to help people. If there was an organization that helped people that she could assist, she was there. She served on the first Needline board, rang that Salvation Army bell in the cold and helped make sure the news was delivered on time through her job at the newspaper.

I’ll always remember her showing us grandkids the printing press in motion, her and I feeding the ducks at the cemetery and going to Taco John’s with her. She hauled us to the movie theater and skating rink on the weekends.

She was the best and I’m going to miss her terribly.

But there’s a flip side to this grief too.

For the last five or so years of her life my granny suffered from dementia. It was heartbreaking watching a woman who used to know everyone and their family histories struggle to remember her own name. I have grieved for her so many times over these years, and been ecstatic when a flash of her old self would reappear.

As it goes, those flashes had been farther and farther apart over the last months. I know she was ready to go see my grandad again and I can’t begrudge her that in the least bit.

Losing her has also left me with a whole in my everyday routine. I was lucky enough to be a caregiver for her during these years. (Along with other family members and a few wonderful women who took care of her like their own family. I definitely did none of this on my own.)

We were happy to help her in anyway we could after everything she’s done for us. Helping care for her has taught Brody an important lesson in compassion, me one in patience and reminded time and time again what a great guy I married. (My granny called Justin “the Professor.” We have no idea why, but it’s brought me great joy.)

I don’t know what to do with myself or my time without her here. I’ll figure it out eventually, there’s plenty to be done, but for the time being I’m just a little lost.