Took a pencil and I wrote

Yesterday was the beginning of toothpick bridge destruction in Physics. We only got through two bridges and broke one record. The second bridge we tested held 405 pounds. 405 pounds held up by toothpicks and glue. It would have held 450, but the weight tipped and knocked it all over. It was cool.

Grandma came home from the hospital yesterday and Mom and I went to visit her. It's strange how you can go to a person's house again and again but not really see things. Grandpa's been gone since August and last night it really hit me again that he's gone. There are so many things around Grandma's house that I equate with him, either because they were his or he was always around them. But he doesn't use them anymore. He can't. And then I was in the bedroom that was both of their's before he got sick and late the last room he ever saw and it hit me again. When I go through that door I feel subdued, as though I have to be more quiet, more calm. And yet there's no reason. But the room always feels that way. More quiet, more calm. And then, of course, there's the front porch where he used to sit all of the time. It used to be that you could never go in that house without Grandpa seeing you. He was always right there, playing cards or watching the news. Now it's just Grandma there.

Death is a strange experience to deal with.