Life isn't measured in minutes, but in moments

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was quite the movie. There were a lot of noteworthy lines and moments in the movie that just grabbed your emotions, and for a fantasy, I was left thinking how real it felt. One of my favorite parts of the movie is when Benjamin (Brad Pitt) comes home after one of his excursions and briefly narrates what it feels like to come home. He describes it as being the same, the smells, the sounds, the people...and then you realize what is different...you are. I find that so real and true it hurts. It's like when you first come to the realization that you're growing up, you're moving on, and change is certain. Change in the form of place or people can be very exciting, but it's when your own mortality hits you that you start to question your life and your choices. Who wants to make the wrong choice in a life that while may be long for some is very short for others. Recently, I've been starting to fear moving on in my life, and the vital role that people I know have played thus far in my timeline. I fear years passing between seeing a friend I love, or coming home. Missing people is what keeps me up at night. And when dreams I dream are of people I haven't seen in far too long, I don't like waking up. It's hard to live each moment as if you'll never have it again, because if you did you'd stand still in it while life passes you by. It makes you wonder what heaven is like. Is it a second chance?

thanks gramps

Last year at this time was so much fun. I had one of the best birthdays...21 is a big deal. I went out with the micos from carrabbas, and out with my closest friends from home. Shortly after was Christmas which is exciting yet melancholy when it actually hits. It was the first Christmas without my grandpa Musyt, which also meant a birthday without him. Every birthday of mine was special to him and our family because each birthday marked another year that he was out of Hershey medical center. He almost died when I was born and I'm left wondering how I would never had known twenty years with such a wonderful and fun man. He called me a tuffy from a young age, and a little cowboy when I took him for a drive shortly after I got my license. I would tease him and sing songs, go for walks with him down vaughn st., and catch him when he was sneaking chocolates. The last time I saw him was in a rehabilitation center and he was doing so well. He showed me my dad and brother how good he was at using the exercise equipment. We were sure that he was going to be well again, because he had been through so much worse. He always made it. He was invinsible especially in my brother's eyes. I was the one who had to tell my brother that he died. He didn't believe me.
I didn't want to believe it either but actually telling someone else and hearing yourself say it aloud makes it more real. Not until now did I see the irony of my 21st birthday when my friends took me to Hershey Park. I certainly didn't make the connection then, but now see it as a gift that will remain even more special in my heart.