See You Again Soon

I spoke with Mike the other day about my grandfather, about how I still don’t really know how to grieve with him gone. He watched me grow up, always believed I’d amount to something, that I’d find my way. I started my career in EMS, and a year later he was gone. I cried after earning my Firefighter I and wished he could’ve been there for my paramedic graduation. I just wanted to share those moments with him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hold his hand or hear his voice anymore.

I made my first friends in Reno after a plane crash. I remember sitting in the Whitney Peak, for a new friend I barely knew, but who somehow made an impact. I sat there watching all the love he cultivated with the friends he had. I told myself that moving forward, I wanted to live like him, to find the courage to find friendships like that too.

Now, talking with Mike, I’ve realized something, even though I don’t have my grandfather anymore, and even though distance will soon separate me from the friends I made here, I don’t need to be sad.

How lucky am I to have people worth grieving over?
How lucky am I to have tears to shed in the first place?

I wouldn’t trade the heartache for anything.

I think life is measured by the times you laugh so hard you cry, surrounded by the people who make it all worthwhile.

I’m not ready to say “see you later,” but every autumn, the leaves keep falling, and life keeps moving.

So thank you to everyone in Reno who mattered to me. Who made life a little easier when it felt impossibly hard. For the tough calls, the solid support, the cheap beers, the birthdays, the river days. All of it.

I love you guys and I’ll be back soon.
I just have something I need to do in the meantime.

Love you, Poppop.
There will always be more moments I wish I could share with you. But how lucky am I to have had you at all. To have someone who made life feel so full in the first place.