p and I've littered my mind with nostalgia and alcohol. I've been choking on a broken heart since that morning's 6:06a. I don't know what to do with myself. I've been wrapped in a numb haze that has nothing better to do than keep me company with it's consistency. I feel alone and unguided. My grandfather is gone and I don't know how to put my own two feet together and keep moving through this draining disaster. How do you accept this much of a magnified loss. How do you accept the loss of life that's been applied to the strongest branch of your family tree. I don't know how to feel what I want to feel or say what I want to say. I'm a functional wreck. I've been carrying his picture in my pocket for days and days. I've had his Navy bracelet wrapped around my wrist for 3+ weeks. I've securely held him in my eyesight for 30 straight years and it's not enough. It's never enough. I need more. I need so much fucking more. I need more of my grandfather's calmly-carved presence. I need his laughter. I need the sound of his chest when it's dispelling his chest full of coughs. No one can come close to this contagious France at his brilliantly-bestowed best. No one can make his goodbye any easier.