On May 7th, 2017, I lost a grandchild, Curt (pictured), in a car accident. He and his mom, my daughter, (also pictured), who thankfully survived, were hit head-on, by a drunk driver. Curt was 15. The word for him is lovely, just a lovely young man. He had 50 best friends. Everyone knew and loved him at school. He had that dry wit that kept everyone laughing; a class was always going to be fun if Curt was in the same classroom. He kept his teammates inspired and laughing during every game. I have 6 other grand children, and I love them all the same, but there was just something special about Curt. He never hurt anyone's feelings and he had a special heart for the downtrodden, lonely, or picked-on students. He talked to them, and encouraged them daily. He was just the best! The first 4 years after his death were hell! I broke down and cried, uncontrollably, many times a day. You can only imagine. The 5th year without Curt, I cried in the mornings, as I drank my coffee, and at night, when I was trying to get to sleep. When the 6th year rolled around, I told myself that I had to stop crying. I knew Curt would say, "Enough already. You know that I am fine." I could get through the workday. It was all the other times that were the hardest, especially since I lived alone. I had to find a way to fill the time. I have always wanted to paint, but never had the time - raising kids, grandkids, family dinners twice a month, birthdays and holiday celebrations, etc. Now, since Curt's passing, we don't celebrate anymore. My children and grandchildren meet twice a year, and we all live within 50 miles of each other. We are still trying. We try. Everything has definitely changed. So, now I have time to pursue painting. Although my heart is forever broken, I have stopped crying…almost. I must say that I HAVE to paint! I get lost in it. It's my God-given therapy.