Saying goodbye.

The West Coast beckoned my presence for only two days. I have a soft spot for my home and family and am not very good at saying no.

I had to return for the memorial service of my great uncle. It wasn't suppose to be a time of mourning; he lived a great life. But as I sat in a front pew studying the beauty of the stained glass window before me, I couldn't hold back the tears that needed to flow.

He was the younger brother to my grandfather and was always so young at heart. Of course he was deafer than a doornail and his heart was bad but those things aren't what you really remember about someone. He was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather and his laughter and spirit will be missed.

I glanced across the aisle and there was my own grandfather, nodding off. He's in his mid eighties and was never sick a day in his life, until now. I can't bare to think about what my life will be like when he's gone.

I love my family so much and since I was a small girl always thought that it would always be the same. I still want to naively believe that we can continue taking vacations with one another and that we'll forever and always spend every Christmas together.

I can't continue taking those I love, so dearly, for granted.

While at home I had only two days to sort myself out. I enjoyed the family dinners and the rocket style lunch with a close friend.

With my carry-on luggage in tow my mom and I embraced to say our goodbyes. Her eyes welled up, "Mom we're supposed to be good at this by now." I said. But, in all honesty I don't think I'll ever be good at saying goodbye.