10/29/09 - 10/31/09

Grandma passed away/funeral
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Totaled car
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Missed concert of one of my favorite bands
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Lost girl
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They say "bad things always happen in 3's." Well, yes, and sometimes they happen in 4's. The past few days...hm...well they've sucked. A lot. Last night, I couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing. It seemed like the plot of some overly dramatic indie movie.

A while ago, on this very blog, I pointed out that "Our beautiful world is injected with negativity on a daily basis. I feel the need to fill it with as much bliss and positivity as possible." (February 28, 2009)
So since then, I've made it a point to write about all of the beauty in the world.
It's turned into a way of life, a way of seeing and interpreting things on a daily basis. If I had feathered graying hair and a cheesy headshot, I could write a motivational book on it. It's been that life-altering.

10/29/09-10/31/09 really put this idea to the test.

But I found myself looking at the light in each situation. I prayed months, weeks, days for my grandma to have "peace as she lived out her last days". It was answered directly as she passed away in her sleep early Thursday morning. I prayed for "peace and understanding" as I had to say goodbye to chances of a relationship with the girl I had been interested in for nearly half a year. While driving to Louisville this notion finally set in. I didn't want to accept it. I still had hope. But before I knew it tears were unwillingly welling up in my eyes. I let myself have this moment. My disposition changed when I saw the beautiful clear night sky above me. There was something, someone else present. I felt a hand on my shoulder encouraging me to breathe. My weary overly analytical mind was turned off and I was able to see the beauty outside the window.
"Some day
Some happy day
Some day I'll find
The one with eyes that say those words I cannot find" (A. Bird)...
I sung to myself.

Louisville offered a chance to get away from it all. I was at the mercy of the changing leaves of the city's towering autumn trees and the company of my best friend. We took drives through winding roads that were veiled with falling red and gold ember. The leaves floated past our outstretched arms and brushed against our wind-blown hair. In spite of all the mess and the broken-ness, my mind was at rest.
Front row tickets to the Avett Brothers had been arranged when we bought our tickets late this past summer. This would make the week all worthwhile. That night, the rain made the roads slick. On our way to the Avett Brothers show, someone ahead of us stopped abruptly and I went into the back of my friends car. Leaving nothing but a small dent on her car. My car was totaled, it's insides sandwiched together in a heap of metal. It was such a strange sight. Next to no damage on her car and the now unrepairable my vehicle had become. This all happened while only going about 25-30 mph.
Roger, our wide-eyed tow truck driver offered us advice and cigarettes. Through clenched teeth and a country twang he made the accident seem minute and manageable. I junked the car I was still paying off for $250 and called it a night. My mom said she was on her way to pick me up, the funeral was tomorrow morning at 8am.

The finality of it all had set in. I lost my grandma. I lost my girl. I lost my car. I lost my concert ticket.

My friends skipped the show, despite my request, and stayed back with me. They ordered us a pizza and we shouted and danced to Avett Brothers songs the rest of the night until mom came. Once again, I was struck with the beauty of the situation. Sure, I had lost it all. But at the moment, dancing to "Will You Return" was a pressing matter. Shouting lyrics until my voice was hoarse seemed like the solution to it all. Standing in the corner silent, smile across my face, taking in all the love in the room, I thanked God for the day.
The "peace and understanding" I asked for still stands.

The funeral is beautiful, and I'm given the chance to reconnect with many old relatives and friends. I expect to see my grandma sitting at the head of the table at the reception. When she's not there, I take comfort in the fact that the whole family is together, happy, celebrating her life.

Now I sit here at home. The doorbell rings every so often with trick-or-treaters. My dad jumps up with excitement, scurrying to the door like a small child. He gives them a hard time, "they must EARN their candy". My sister laughs and makes fun of him after they leave. The fall leaves blow across the yard and lull me to sleep through the half open window.
I am content.