Reflect, little mirror, reflect.

Wow, so much reflection. So much has happened in the last few days that has been completely overwhelming, but reading a friend's few words on 2011 has gotten me into the "New Beginning" spirit. It's almost 2012, baby :)

In 2012, I:
will be in London for a few days.
will graduate from high school.
will go to college.
will do something purposeful with my life.
WILL find new love :)
will find and maintain my inspiration.
will continue to enjoy the same friendships that I refuse to let go of.
will make new friends.
won't be able to say for sure what I will do because the future is mysterious.

I can't wait. Because I will rise above myself a step up from before and will enjoy it.


In other news, my grandpa died last night. This is not something I wish to announce, but felt that I needed to honor him in my own way.
Dealing with death leading up to yesterday made me think about how unfair it is, yet at the same time, how beautiful it kinda is. It sharpens the mind. It floods people with pure sorrow that is unwanted yet so entirely refreshing. I feel cleansed and washed away. I feel like I can see clearly. I reflect back to those times so long ago when he would play baseball with me with my little plastic bat and ball or when he would chase me and my friends around, the scariest thing in the world. I remember how much he loved my dogs and all dogs, how the first thing out of his mouth in recent conversations was an inquiry as to the well-being of my furballs, and the way his eyes lit up when he was thinking about them. Or the way he religiously set out birdseed at their house for the regulars; they were his life. And the way he was so loved by all he met and all who knew him; he was a great man, and people were just drawn to that. Or even, when I was older and could understand, the way we talked politics and how passionate he was about the Middle East; no one dared talked to him about that if they wanted to escape quickly. Up to the end, he was hysterical, making jokes about drinking and sex, even when he didn't have his teeth in. The man knew how to have fun and, I swear, the room would twinkle with his happiness.
I'm going to miss him.

I wrote a poem about the last day I saw him, last Saturday, but, not only that, trying to capture his essence as well. It means a lot to me. Tell me what you think.

I Will Remember

One day you asked me,

not so long ago,

to paint for you.

To paint for you those you cannot see

and will never again hear.

Grandpa,

I painted for you

and for all the world,

I'm glad I did.

Red,

for the sweater vest she wore,

as she scribbled

the foreign symbols

that made perfect sense to you.

And she wore black,

dripped with turquoise

and splashing everywhere,

you loved her,

we know she loved you.

And the navy blue shirt he wore,

with his white memory box,

the latest and greatest,

you probably didn't understand,

but, if you could try,

you would.

Then she,

in her kerchief,

and you in your gown,

like something out of the Night Before,

 joined as she kissed you

without a sound.

All this I sketched,

no questions asked,

rapidly as time ticked on,

to put in the album

that will always last.

If only I had,

if only I had...

the words still burn,

was it enough?

Did I use the right pastels?

I can't be certain,

but I hope that it's true,

that you will always remember.

If not,

 I'll remember for you.

That's all for me today. Count down to London, Christmas, and New Year's ready to begin :) God bless. 

Love.