My grandpa is 96 years old. He hopped trains through Indiana, worked at a print shop, and was married to my grandma for 70 years. He died today. I sit here in my room, listening to Tom Petty on a CD a lovely friend made for me, and I am reminded of almost a year ago exactly, when my heart was completely broken. I feel again that in the face of your worst fears, and even death, that we are safer than we know. We are taken care of. We are loved so much more than we could ever love. And grave covers us through to our very bones.