What's in a Name?

What's in a name? I have been asking myself that over the last few days. When I decided to give myself a fresh start with writing again I couldn't help but think.

"Do I want to do this... again?"

"Will this be fun? Will the fun fade? Will this become another stagnant slice of the internet?"

"I guess I could just not tag anything and it can be a secret blog haha."

Regular journaling with a pen and paper just don't do it for me. So I keep coming back to my new, new, new slice of the internet. And each time I hope that this blog or this Tumblr, or this whatever will stick. For now, I will remain optimistic because I'm still typing away on my office keyboard.

Last summer my grandfather passed away. We couldn't have the memorial until a month later because of hurricane season in Florida and having a month go by without a sense of closure to commemorate a loved one is a really weird moment in time. While I wrote a caption to commemorate my grandfather on Instagram, I touched on how my middle and last names are reflective of both my father's parents. My middle name is Marion, named after my father's mother, who passed before my brother and I were born. Herman is my last name and that was my grandfather's middle name. The funnier part about Herman is that I didn't find out until after my husband and I were married that there was this connection to my grandfather. (If you ever have a chance to meet me, I can talk to myself and I can talk to a wall. My parents are on the quieter side.)

The day after the memorial, we spent time with my uncle and Abuelita. This was a surreal moment to spend time in their apartment because I had spent so many summers living with them and it was the first time my husband was visiting their home. My Abuelita pulled me aside to show me all of the cards and signs that my brother and I would make her. Then she pulled out a photo album, which to my surprise was my parents' wedding album. I have only seen one or two photos of my parents from their wedding. To see an entire album was overwhelming and exciting. It was the early 80's in Miami after all. I finally saw a photo of my grandfather, Marion, and my parents. The feeling was surreal seeing two of my grandparents who were now watching over me. 

That's why I wanted to start this journey asking "what's in a name?" At the crisp age of 31, I can find some peace in knowing one set of grandparents is with me every day.