wiiknd: we spent three hours watching movie trailers. it was perfect.

laundry + cleaning for mama.

hospital.

parenthood catch up.
daddy = home.

baby hugs heal.

overboard.

speed cleaning.

pizza breakdown.

floods of tears.

real talk.

understanding + patience + love.
so much love.

double time.

"i hate people."

easter egg hunt.

deviled eggs.

old navy stock up.

"just let me spoil you."

hospital.
so much improvement.

"wait! when we have kids, i'm not allowed to whine. :("

sandwiches.

late night snack heavennn.

red.

bruce willis crush, reignited.

movie trailer marathon. 

bed at 1:45.

sleep until 11:21.

whispered "happy easter"s.

donnie darko pancakes.

girls.

"i'm sorry you married a hipster."
church in ogden.
baby giggles during serious talks.
myrtle manor.
new potatoes + scorched butter heaven.
worst cooks finale.

|   |   |   |   |   |   |

food and tv
basically sum up my life.
and i'm completely okay with that.

24 to 48 hours. that's what they said.

my abuelito is in the hospital.

my 95 year old grandpa

who talks like he's in the mafia,

blasts his music like a teenager,

and cheats at blackjack,

 is sick.

he's sick

and he's not getting better.

i'm afraid if he goes,

the floodgates will open

and heaven will call all my favorites 

home.

i'm not ready for this.

i'm not ready for death to start playing.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

it feels selfish of me to keep saying "i"

like i'm the only one that hurts.

and it's unfair to focus on future losses

that shouldn't even be thoughts.

but that's what death does.

it knocks and knocks 

and forces you to listen.

 it rips open your heart and injects 

a fear that spreads like fire.

my mom,

my angel of a mother,

has been taking care of him

round the clock for over a year.

she is so strong.

she is so sweet.

she is so selfless.

i don't know how she does it.

watching my uncle cry,

listening to my mom and her siblings

talk to him about everyday things

like shaving or summer plans,

trying to convince him everything is okay

adds salt to the wound.

i never thought i'd think

95 is too young.

but it is.

it really, really is.