P.S. I Love You.

So I watched P.S. I love you the other night, and well... let's just say I cried a tad bit. Every now and then it's nice to open the floodgates and let the river flow. Everyone has emotions, and showing them doesn't make you a wuss, only a human. Anyways, now that I've got that disclosure out of the way, I'll get to the point. In the movie, the main character's husband dies (it happens in the very beginning, so I didn't ruin anything for you), and throughout the story you discover some of the past events she shared with her husband as she struggles with her grief. And it got me to thinking about my own family and the losses we've went through. (Which only led to more manly, manly tears).



Growing up, I've lived at my grandparents house. Not for disciplinary reasons, but because my mother worked late nights, and my step-dad wasn't in the picture yet. At least, I hope not for disciplinary reasons...
Also, Gammaw's homemade, made-with-love meals help soothed the transition. Therefore, the main male influences I had in my family were my Papa and Uncle Joey. (My aunt and uncle live right next door to my grandparents. And my house is only five or six blocks away. So you can say we're close. At very least, by proximity.) When I was nine years old, I went away on a camping trip, and when I returned I found out that Papa had suffered from a stroke. To shorten a long sad story, and spare my tear ducts for a few minutes, Papa passed on later that year. I still remember how my Gammaw (Grandma minus a few letters - Phonics hadn't caught on at that point) cried at the funeral, because upon seeing her break down, I did too. I never thought I would cry that hard again. And until my sophomore year in high school, I didn't. That's when my uncle Joey, the main man in my life, one of my role models, and my hero, suffered a brain aneurism. I was in school when I found out. They called me to the school office to tell me. I went to the bathroom and cried all through 5th period. Anyways, after a long stint in various hospitals, he left to see Jesus and fill Papa in on what he'd missed those past years.



Anyways, I didn't write this blog to let everyone know how much a sissy I am. I wrote it to applaud my Gammaw and aunt Carolyn. Of course I've known that losing your husbands hurt, but I hadn't realized the pain that lingers every single day. I haven't always treated you with the respect that you both deserve, and for that I'm sorry. There is nothing harder in life than losing a loved one, and to see how both of you have battled through hard times and continued to be beacons of joy in our family is truly inspirational. Thank you so much for your patience with me and helping me through my petty heartbreaks, when in comparison to yours, they are microscopic. I love you both.

So for everyone that has stuck with this unusually dreary blog: Go hug you're loved ones, especially the widows and widowers. Appreciate the bravery that they've shown to continue on with their lives, despite their personal griefs. And don't miss a chance to say, "P.S. I love you."