every sunday. and the six days in-between.

May is the month I lost my Grandpa, a day I will never forget. All of us cousins were there, in the final minutes as he left.

And the room fell quiet.

But not the kind of quiet that makes you uncomfortable --wishing someone would talk and break the silence. No, a different kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that invites angels into a room, for a brief moment.

And May is the month I lost my dear Gram. And she had her own angels gathering her up and taking her home, when she passed all alone.

Still, each Sunday,like clockwork, I miss them both. Sunday was the day when we would all get together at their house, for a dose of BS and our only bowl of sugar cereal for the week. And I am not sure which I looked forward to most.

So tomorrow, I will go put flowers on their graves. And I will be still for a moment. And quiet. And hope that two special angels peak through from above and know that I still miss them...every Sunday...and the six days in-between.