Almost three years ago, Andrew and I were shocked to hear that Jose and Sara got into their car to do some last-minute shopping and never came home, killed by a drunk driver in Texas that day before Thanksgiving evening.

It stung and ached then, and it still does. A couple of months ago I drove over by their old flat and I suddenly could hear Jose's voice peal with laughter and it was as if he told me how proud he was of Andrew and I. I burst into tears and missed them dreadfully.

Backing up, Sara and Jose were here when we first arrived in 2003 and stuck around for a year or so after we came. He was from Granada, she was from Texas and Andrew and Jose practiced their languages together. We were part of a rather scrappy bunch of 20 and 30 somethings and ate a lot of bad food and laughed alot together.

But, Jose wanted to stretch his wings and so they moved to Texas, they made a life, had two boys and would occasionally come back and visit. I always assumed that they would come and semi retire here and we would take long, lesiurely walks to drink beers and eat morcilla (blood sausage, Jose's favorite) in the center of Granada one day.

However, that was not to be the case. In a blink of an eye, they were both gone. Covid opened up the idea of zoom funerals, and we both watched and cried that cold day in December.

This moment in fall, I always feel like the veil between this life and the next is a bit thinner, so that we and they can somehow "see" and "feel" each other again. I will never stop missing them and the years stolen from us all.

Today also marks a day in which a dear, sweet family friend finally slipped into the next life, after years of struggle and dementia. Like Jose's laugh, Ron's was just as loud and memorable. He was our adopted uncle and he would pop in on us and my mom and drink coffee and gossip before he ended up to work. He knew my mom needed someone to talk to and we needed to be reminded that others cared for us.

He taught my brother Jason how to work hard and he taught me that in order for behavior to change, hearts had to first. He lived and breathed his faith until the last. And we all just miss him.

However, much I ache, I still confess to having a deep, lasting hope that someday, in a blink of an eye, we will be together and crushed in big, bear hug love.