As February 23 nears as it does every year, this one marks a very special anniversary. It will be 10 years since I held or saw my son for the last time.
I am a grandmom with two beautiful grandkids: 8 yr old Jackson and 6 yr old Brielle. I may be twice a grandmom but I am blessed an infinite number of times because they are beautiful, smart, and caring young people.
This horrid Covid-19 has provided a wonderful opportunity to be with Jax and Brie and help them (though they're both so bright they don't need much help) navigate virtual 3rd and 1st grades. Mom Gina and dad Doug teach their virtual classes, high school English and Math respectively, from their actual classrooms, so Bruce and I stay at their house with the kids while school is in session.
Gina is finishing up her last 2 courses and will be awarded her Masters Degree at the end of this semester. To say I'm proud of her for everything she has accomplished doesn't even come close to how I feel. I know I don't tell her that often enough.
I so often wish Jax and Brielle could have known their Uncle Pete and he, them. I know he would have loved to play with them and teach them to surf and snowboard and, of course, fish.
I miss him. I miss his wonderful, oh, so wonderful, hugs.
Losing him still hurts and no amount of time will ever change that.
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