each broken heart will eventually mend

Today is a rather bittersweet day; it's my sister's birthday, which is a happy thing, but it's also my grandfather's birthday, which encourages memories that I tend to shove away out of self-preservation. He would have been eighty today, which normally would have necessitated a grand midwestern party (or at least a roast beef dinner with the family), but he's gone and so birthday celebrations are no longer necessary. I haven't stopped missing him, but the pain is no longer as sharp and demanding as it used to be--and that, in and of itself, makes me want to cry, because it feels like a betrayal that it's become easier to bear as the years have passed. Hyderabad makes me think of him fairly often, though, because he loved rocks, and Hyderabad has more than its fair share of boulders (and people breaking the boulders up and carting the pieces away on their heads). I suppose it doesn't matter so much anymore; life goes on, I've changed, my family has changed, and every change takes us a step farther away from how life was when he was still here. There would never have been enough time with him to satisfy me--and so all I can do is try to be satisfied with what I had, which was incredibly special and absolutely fundamental to who I've been and what I will become.

True to my avoidant nature, I successfully sidestepped any thoughts of him all day, since I was very busy at work; I was at the office until eleven, and then came home with Matt and ate dinner in his apartment before coming upstairs and finishing some more work. Now I desperately need some sleep so that I can do it all again tomorrow. Goodnight!