8 Years

A lot can happen in 8 years.

I lost all my baby teeth and embarked on the EVER attractive braces phase.
I quit the sport I thought I'd be a part of until my senior year and beyond.
I got my appendix removed.
I survived middle school and made it to the big ole high school.
I got my ears pierced.
I learned how to braid my hair...okay scratch that. Still haven't quite figured that one out.

A lot can happen in 8 years.
But unfortunately, my grandpa wasn't here for any of it.

8 years ago on May 24th Cyril O'Rourke, my crow-crying, pillow monster, musician grandpa passed away at home. I remember I'd been at the zoo all day, and had come home to watch The Master of Disguise, when my 2nd grade innocence was permanently altered.

Time is an irreplaceable thing that I would give anything to have.  I can only dream of going back and spending time with him, especially listening to him sing.  When I sing, I can only pray that I attempt to emulate him and his natural ease.

My grandpa has never seen me on the stage.
My grandpa has never heard me sing.
Yet, my grandpa has been with me every time I've felt the heat of the spotlight on my skin.

It's true that a lot can happen in 8 years.
But what's even more true?
The fact that he's never once left my side.
I love you Grandpa
We will meet again.