...it lasts longer

Whenever I look at older pictures of my grandma, I'm always amazed by her facial expression. If anyone had the luck to pass through my grandma's life for a second, they'd recognize her strength of character, her warmth, and her love for her own. Yet, in her pictures, she stands in silence. She is stoic, blank, and devoid of anything. If I didn't know any better, I'd imagine her as cruel and empty as she portrayed herself.

Maybe she stood in pictures like that because she was unhappy. She lost her mother when she was six. She was raised by her Uncle because her father suffered from Parkinson's. She married a man she loved only to find him to be an alcoholic. She lost everything she had...twice. I think her life did not turned out as she imagined it would have, but that did not matter to her.

In all of her grief, she found hope. Grammy still loved beyond measure, and she loved you the way you needed to be loved.

I've always been afraid that I would not be able to love like that. I've thought that when presented with the opportunity, I would be hesitant and cautious. A few lifetimes ago, I had the chance to give myself to someone as she did, and I did it without a second thought. Even though things did not end out like I thought they would, I now know that I am not afraid to love.

Because of that, I will give myself over and over until there is only a husk left, and I then will then give that. And I'll be damned if I'm not smiling in every picture on the way.