This is an image of a pizza box that I took.

We eat pizza and drink beer at band practice.

I play the guitar and sing.

Writing has been helpful for me lately.

Between applying for jobs and staring into the void, I have been writing.

Writing songs, writing blogs, writing love notes.

I'm lucky to write love notes.

I am grateful to have gone to lunch last week with one of my oldest and best friends.

We went to a brewery.

I got a salad and sparkling water, he got a burger and a beer.

He plays in the band.

He says he wants to sing, too.

We've been playing music together for about a year.

He hasn't sung a note.

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My Grandfather is dying.

I mean, we're all dying.

He's just closer to death than I think am.

But you never know how or when things will end.

My partner made cinnamon rolls with raisins last night.

I helped a little (I'm not much of a baker).

Cinnamon rolls with raisins are my Grandfather's favorite.

I've been spending the afternoons with him in his hospital room.

We chat when he feels chatty.

I watch him sleep.

My Grandma visits him, too.

They've been married for 71 years.

I love and am proud of them.

He still works.

His staff visited him yesterday.

He signed documents.

Those documents mark the beginning of his retirement.

He's been talking about retiring for the last 31 years.

Soon, he won't work.

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I'm going to frost the cinnamon rolls in the next few hours.

I'll sprinkle some raisins on top to broadcast their content.

He hasn't eaten much in the last 6 days.

I hope he likes them.

I sobbed at my latest band practice.

Tears over beers.

When I leave I say "Love you, Grandpa. I'll see you tomorrow".

He tells me he loves me, too.

And to be good.

And to be safe.

I'm lucky to sit with him in the afternoons.