My wife often tells me I'm too open, I share too much, but I find strength in the vulnerability. Its like walking without shoes, hurting your feet, adapting to the terrain.

You sharing this means you are becoming stronger.

I have both my parents alive, although I expect a phone call about my father any day. I was raised by my mother, and my father figure was my grandpa. When he died I felt lost for a little while, but I also felt relief. He was in a lot of pain. But at least his cancer battle was short lived.

I've gone to visit his grave a few times since he passed. It's been ten years now, and when I'm there I always cry. I know it's just a box, I know it's just some bones, I know he's not really in there, but still...

The farm where I live was his. It was also his gift to us, which is why I left the US and decided to move here. Its also why the guitars I build have his name. Because I feel compelled to let him live a little bit longer- through me, my existing.

In a way your mom is still alive, through you she holds on.