Day 132

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." Dumbledore

I awoke at 6am to see that it was pouring rain outside. Nowhere near idyllic for photographing a golf outing. After having a very sleepy start to my morning, grabbed my waffles and coffee to go, said "see you later" to Pongo and I was out the door.

Windshield wipers at full power, I carefully drove to the golf outing. While exiting on the newly paved exit ramp, my car started to slide on the road. Not once, but twice. I was not driving fast at all. I vaguely remember what happened because my adrenaline kicked in fully force, took control of my brain and saved me from crashing my car. I looked up at my grandfather's funeral card on my visor and said, "Thanks for looking out for me Gramps."

With hands gripped as hard as I could on the steering wheel, I drove at least 10 miles under the speed limit the rest of the way to the golf outing. My mind was racing a million miles a minute, going over what just had happened. I was incredibly glad and lucky to be safe at the golf course.

It rained until about 10 minutes before the 8.30am shotgun start. The sun started shinning and the skies turned from grey to baby blue. The rest of the day was gorgeous and other than the large puddles on the course, it was hard to tell that it was pouring rain just hours before.
While photographing the golf outing, I could not help but notice the reflections that those puddles made. I loved seeing the trees reflect in the water, especially the willow trees. Other than watching Pocahontas when I was a kid, I never had a fascination with willow trees until today.

I had no idea why. No idea why it rained so hard. No idea why I slid on the exit ramp this morning. No idea why the weather turned out great after the storm. No idea why I was suddenly fascinated with willow trees.

But now I know exactly why all of this happened.

When I arrived home after the golf outing, I see there is a neglected voice message on my phone. I listen to it to hear an Australian-accented voice informing me of a tragic news. My cousin Paul's grandfather had passed away. I knew "Opi" as we called him (a variation of the German word "Opa" for Grandpa) from living with my aunt, uncle and Paul for three months in Melbourne. While he was not my grandfather, Paul was nice enough to share him with me and I looked to him as my own.

Opi is easily one my favorite people in the world. Such a funny man with a great sense of humor. Always smiling and could melt anyone's heart by looking at them with his warm and kind eyes. He kept my blood sugar levels at a constant high, always offering Paul and I heaps of candy, cookies, Coke and cake. Saying "no" to Opi's favorite "C" words was unacceptable. He would always insist I take one. And when I did, it was not long before he offered me another. But that was how he was; constantly giving to others. He was full of love. While I could go on forever about him, Paul explains Opi best in his own words:

He peacefully passed away earlier today. He was simply the most amazing person I knew, all his life all he ever did was love and care for those around him and never asked anything in return. He made my life so much happier just with his presence and cheeky smile. You were the most incredible grandpa a person could ask for, you went above and beyond to do anything for me and I will forever be grateful for every little thing you ever did for me. I hope one day I can be at least half the man you were. I will never stop loving you with my whole heart nor will I ever forget you. 

So now I know why Mother Nature was crying this morning. I know why I did not crash, it was my grandfathers telling me slow down and to not take life for granted. I know why I was fascinated with the weeping willows as East Asian nations' cultures commemorate the death of loved ones with these trees; a symbol of death, tears, mourning and reflection. And I know why the weather turned out to be perfect after the storm, to remind me of exactly that. That regardless of the hardships, one day everything will be okay.

Without saying, today's post is dedicated to Paul and my family in Australia in memoriam of Opi. May his spirit live on in all the hearts he touched. I know it will.

Kimmik