I can't believe it's been 6 years

Six years ago today. That's when Heaven got another country-loving farmer for his band of angels, and that angel was my Grandpa. I've been tossing around the idea of blogging some of my life adventures as I start out on my very first job out of grad school as a hospice social worker, and for some reason today seemed like a good day to start. 
The thought solidified in my head as I visited my Grandpa's grave, I stood there in the cold evening air telling him how much I loved him and I knew he was proud of me and all the things I've done. Standing there talking to him took me back when I first interviewed for this hospice social worker position, and how my soon-to-be supervisor asked me if I had ever experienced hospice or death. Hospice, no; death, yes. I explained how my Grandpa had struggled with his disease, how it impacted my Grandma and my family, what it actually felt like to lose someone close to me, and what it meant to me to grieve. 
Standing there tonight at my Grandpa's grave I was able to finally vocalize (to him? to myself?) that the pain I experienced 6 years ago has a purpose; that purpose being though each grief is unique you cannot fully empathize with grieving families unless you know what loss is yourself. 

I promise the many posts of my adventures yet to come will not be as dark and reminiscent on my part. 

Hospice is not about fearing death. It is about celebrating life.