It's remarkable to think that nearly 14 months has passed since I sat in my grandmother's house and typed through the beauty and the grief of that trip. A lot of time has passed, a lot of things have changed. Shortly after we returned, I went through all of his clothes and belongings, and the baby things are long gone: sold, donated, given away. Those size 13 work boots, however, are still exactly where they were 14 months ago, laces askew on the basement floor.
In time, I tell myself. In time.