"It's not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I recieve with the restart"

It feels like a long time since I last wrote, but in reality it was only a couple weeks.

It's weird how we measure time in a mathematical way. I wrote a new post on March 16 and today is March 31.
31-16 = 15
15 days. 360 hours. 21,600 minutes.
I don't really enjoy math. There's no human element in it; just numbers. I am unsure of how to explain things in time.
In the past 15 days there have been great changes in my life, great changes in myself. If the past 15 days were measured in importance rather than hours or minutes, they would carry with them more meaning than whole years of my life.

My grandfather passed away and was buried the day before my birthday. He died in his home, in the room that he and my grandmother had shared when she was still alive. His family was able to forgive him for wrongs in the past, and love him for the things he did right. Two of his children were with him, and his grandchildren and brother were at the house shortly after.
I learned more about my grandfather the day he died than I had ever known before. His life growing up in West Virginia was hard, but my grandfather showed a good heart. He was protective of his younger brother.

My favorite story was about his nickname, Dewy (I hope I have remembered that right.) It seems that there was a man in town with that name who had a large growth on the side of his head, and all the children picked on him; all except my grandfather. Grandpa was kind to this man. He fought those who put him down and showed the man kindness. I am proud to know this. I am proud to know that dispite my grandfather's shortcomings, he was a good man.

Grandpa died not remembering a lot. His brain had shrunk, leaving him helpless in his last days. Yet before this happened, he bacame more involved in his church. I feel that my grandfather is now outside of time. His soul is with his Savior, and he is now in a place with no more tears.

The grief I have felt has been hard. I spent another seven days in the hospital for inpatient psychiatric care. I had suicidal thoughts, and had come up with a plan. I did not want to be on earth where there was pain. I wanted to be where there were no more tears. Yet now I am glad that I did not follow through with my plan, that I sought help instead. I am meant to live my life until it is meant to end, and the choice to end it will not be mine.

After all of this, I want to change the name of this blog. I do not feel that I am functioning in a broken way, but functioning in a human way. I am not having a fresh start, but restarting with the hope of reaching a better place. I don't know what this will look like, and it is someone scary. It's a fear that I will have to face.

I don't know what will happen when I experience less depression, but I know that it will be better. I don't know how I will feel when I lose weight, but I hope I can stay away from bitterness if men find me more attractive. I don't know what being more responsible will bring, but I can look on it as an adventure.

So now...we will see where things go from here.

*The title of this post is a line from a Mumford and Sons song.