I don't have very much Thursday left. I was going to post about yesterday being the 4th of July.
I was going to tell you about how when I was a kid, I lived for the years I could visit my grandparents on July 4th. Their town is on a lake, and they had a days-long festival called Aqua Boom, culminating, as the name suggests, fireworks on the lake.
I was going to tell you about how, when I was watching fireworks with my roommate last night, I thought of how much I loved those fireworks as child. And I thought of how much my grandfather loved his country, and the 4th of July. And I was going to tell you how much I loved him, how much I still loved him.
I was going to tell you just how much my heart began to hurt as I watched those fireworks last night. That's what this post was going to be about.
But I'm tired of talking about how much I miss my grandfather. I'm tired of it hurting so badly.
I'm running out of words to describe the ache I still have in my heart, more than a year later. And I'm running out of Thursday.