The Man Who Painted.

Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return.
      They will enter Jerusalem singing,
      crowned with everlasting joy.
   Sorrow and mourning will disappear,
      and they will be filled with joy and gladness.
  ~Isaiah's Fifty-first chapter, the eleventh verse.  The Holy Bible 

Don't say you understand. Don't ask me how I'm doing. Don't force me to talk.  Don't tell me that I will be okay or that time heals all wounds. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't care if you care. I don't want your sympathy because it just reminds me of what I have lost. 

Now leave me alone. This isn't about Hannah or Josh or Evan. This isn't about me. This is about my dead grandfather. The one who visited me everyday in the hospital. and took me for bike rides and taught me how to ski.  The man who painted beautiful pictures.  This is about the man who was recently buried under the cold dirt in a cemetery plot not far from Evan.  This is about a man meeting Jesus and loving heaven.

May they Rest In Peace.