Six years and one day ago my cousin was born.
As the oldest of 13 cousins, new babies aren’t something I’m unaccustomed to. This one, however, was different.
She was the first baby born since my grandpa passed away.
She was also the last new grandbaby my grandpa knew about.
So, I can’t help it. I remember her age. She was born exactly 7 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day after he died. He’s been gone for 6 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day.
Despite being the oldest grandchild and getting the most time with him, the man who basically raised me alongside my parents, it still stings that he’s been gone for over six years.
In this time, I’ve graduated college. I graduated from grad school. I’ve found love, heartache, and everything in between. I’ve been diagnosed with illnesses. I’ve had ridiculous jobs. I found true love. I was hired at a job I love. I became engaged. I became a writer.
A lot can happen in six years.