My mom has been keeping me posted on what is going on back in Ohio. We spoke today. Apparently, my grandmother is getting pretty bad. It may only be a few days now. She's on oxygen and a morphine regimen, and today they gave her something for anxiety. If (when) she dies I guess I'm going back to Ohio for the funeral. What a lovely occasion for travel.
I have said it before and I will say it again: mortality sucks. I'd avoid it, myself, if there were any conceivable way of doing so. Gran was born in 1920, I think, which makes her eighty five. I suppose some people would call that a long life, but then her mother, and her mother's mother each lived to be 101. I guess I wonder if the cigarettes lopped sixteen years off of her life. I've got two bicentennial quarters in my pocket for her. I was going to send them to her. So much for that idea. I've always wondered what it would be like to have things unfinished. Which book will I be half way through? Which movies will I be waiting to see? What projects will I have half finished. It's too bad the girls didn't make it to Chillicothe for Christmas. Gran wanted to see how big they had grown.
There's the dryer buzzer. I think I'll go hang up my stuff and attempt to catch at least a couple of Z's before I have to get ready for work.
