Things have been a little tougher the last few weeks.

My Uncle Ben died unexpectedly. He had been ill for a while, but it took a really bad turn around the beginning of July and we lost him a few weeks later. I hadn’t been back to the town where I grew up, where the rest of my family still lives, in 3 or 4 years, but for this I knew we had to go.

It was an odd feeling. Roadtrips are usually joyful. We’d done one for work already in May, and then the one to Ohio to see Sarah’s parents. And all the way in the car back and forth we’re singing and joking. With this one, knowing the destination had such a tragic and painful end, it felt weird to do that. And yet, it’s 17 hours to get there and nobody can (or should) be sad and melancholy for that whole trip. So it took me a bit to find my voice, but I did find it.

The funeral was beautiful and it was packed. My uncle was well known and better loved by our community. I don’t know that my presence specifically meant anything to my cousins or my aunt who were dealing with their own grief, or my parents and theirs, but we were there for them anyway. I know funerals are for the living, and I think I needed to experience that moment alongside the people I grew up with, who raised me. Regardless of the fact that I don’t see them for years at a time, that was a moment I needed to be by their sides.

Anyway, that was the unexpected roadtrip and while it was for sad reasons, I’m still glad we went and we did have some good moments too. I got to spend a bunch of time with my grandmother and with my brother and those are precious memories.

Otherwise, August has been quiet. Sarah and I have been exploring more city and county parks on weekends, taking the time to walk through the woods more often. It also gives us a chance to talk the way we do on a roadtrip. There’s something about being side-by-side with no distraction but one another, phones away, no chores to do, that really lets us open up. We talked about birthdays and upcoming football and whether or not I should try my hand at self-publishing and what to do about our HVAC unit. And it’s all small moments, little connections, but they matter. Especially with the stress of my job and the current roller-coaster of our world, being out in the woods on a trail and listening to birds is a tiny kind of miracle.

My uncle’s death reminded me of all the ways we touch each others’ lives. It isn’t the big gestures. It isn’t the life-changing moments. When I think about the people I love, I don’t remember the grand and dramatic bits. I remember the quiet conversations and hugs, the jokes, the unexpected adventures on a grocery trip. It’s those things that define our relationships. It’s those things that speak louder than any speech or declaration.

In a time with so much uncertainty and fear and suffering, in a world where violence and hate are everywhere and growing stronger, in a life that doesn’t look at all how I imagined it would be twenty years ago — I find I am so deeply grateful.

My dreams haven’t come true yet. Nothing has been handed to me and nothing is easy. But I am surrounded by people I love with all my heart who make me laugh every day. I am able to be the person I have chosen to be, to live with integrity and honesty and courage, and to face the bad moments when they come. Maybe it’s just reaching That Age, but I find I am grateful to live a life where I can take a walk with Sarah and talk about nothing and feel everything. I am grateful for the memories of all those little moments I hold dear.

No one knows what comes next, so we have to find peace when we can. I am so grateful for those moments of peace that give me something to hang onto.