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We Last Because We're Colorful

@keepcalmandeataslice / keepcalmandeataslice.tumblr.com

Delaney. Salt Lake City, Utah. A nerd who loves art, music, cosplay, going to concerts and cons, and adventures with friends.
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nedhepburn.tumblr.com

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date. She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady. She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

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i am bawling my eyes out right now

Oh god that’s fucking beautiful….I’m in tears, you sir are freaking amazing.

Source: nedhepburn
#beautiful#love
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I Don't Understand Why I Cry While Watching Glee But Not At Funerals

I don't really know how to express my feelings from the past two days in just one Facebook post, or even out loud. So, Tumblr, I choose you.

My grandmother Beverly Nye (I call her Bebe) died on March 17, 2012 just five days after celebrating her 94th birthday. I knew that she was going to die soon, just not that soon, and I was going to visit her one last time on the day after she passed away. So, basically, I never got to officially say goodbye to her and see her before she left this world. My dad was upset with me for not coming into Ogden (where she lived and where my dad lives most of the time) sooner. I was beating myself up about it as well. But I also realized that she was in a happy, better place now, and that realization kept me from getting too depressed about it. 

So yesterday evening I went over to my relative's house for a lovely dinner, and I was happy because I got to see many people in my family whom I had not seen for what felt like forever and whom I had missed very much. The dinner was wonderful, even though my dad was there watching me like a hawk, and I enjoyed the time with my family. Afterwards I was going to go into Ogden with my dad and stay at his house, "unless", he said, "you want to stay the night with your cousins?" I refused his offer, an action that I would very soon come to regret.

Of course, on the way to Ogden my dad and I started our usual arguing routine. I couldn't believe that we couldn't have ONE car ride where he didn't bring up the same old crap. A little background information for those who don't know: I forgot to tell my dad happy birthday on his 60th birthday, and he had to actually call me and ask me why I hadn't said anything to him about it. (I know, I'm a jerk... my dad reminds me how douchey this action was every time I see him). He kept bringing up his birthday and how I forgot it until finally I got pushed over my limit of annoyance and said something like "Okay, yes, I realize I forgot your birthday, but if you honestly can't recall how apologetic I was and how many times I said sorry to you" (he actually kept stating 'You didn't say sorry once, not once.') "then I'm sorry, but I don't know what to tell you."

He then turned to me and looked at me, his eyes staring into my soul, and said (with regards to me forgetting his birthday) "I will remember it for the rest of my life."

I felt like shit.

At some point during our trip, when we were in the vicinity of Ogden, he turned the car around and starting going back the way we came, muttering something about taking me back to my grandparents house even though he picked me up on my campus. He then threw two blazing daggers of hurt at me: 

"You don't deserve to be a part of this family. You don't deserve to go to Bebe's funeral."

I couldn't even hold back the tears as soon as he said that. So he turned around we went into Ogden as planned. Somehow we were somewhat reconciled by the end of the ride. I don't even know or care how. 

I went to sleep that night feeling more depressed than I've felt in a long long time.

The next day was my grandma's memorial service. I was still pretty sad thinking about what my dad said, it hurt me so much, but I felt better once again being with my family. Maybe that's why I didn't cry throughout the whole day. My grandma wouldn't have wanted us to cry. She wanted it to be a celebration rather than a funeral, and in the end I feel pretty safe saying that that's what it was.

Or maybe I had just spent all my tears the night before being so hurt by my dad.

Either way, my grandma is at peace. I will miss her (many people will miss her). But I will always remember her, and the kindness that she brought into our lives. I hope to be as gracious as she was in my lifetime. And I will think of her every time I see a pretty blue sky, the mountains, any rock, and many other things that she loved so much. 

#death#remember#blue#love#grandma#cry#celebration#bebe
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