I worry a lot.. Too much really. I worry about my husband, driving to work and back... I worry about my dog, how his little dog body is so tough but so tiny.
I worry inevitably about the deaths that could befall my loved ones, and I knock on wood and wish I wasn't so morbid.
This morning I made coffee, I snuggled my husband who slept in a bit late, I took our dog Brigly out to go to the bathroom in the melting snow...
I started editing a paper a friend asked me to look over for her... and then my (ex)cousin-in-law called me to tell me my uncle is dying in a hospital, sedated, on a breathing tube.
My mom and her brother (and as a result, the rest of us) have been estranged for several years. I mean, many, many years. Almost ten I would guess...
But I remember him from when I was a kid, making jokes at me and my sis, playing little games with us, seeming happy.
It was a long time from that childhood memory of a lively man, to years later - he stood stiff and grey, corpse-like in my grandma's house when I lived there in Houston...
And it's been many years since then to today, when the phone call came in and Traycie said she didn't know if my mom knew, but thought she should.
Traycie has always been a sweet, caring person, and I like that she has kept me in her thoughts over the years. Her and my cousin didn't last long, but they created a really awesome child together who is now 15, and about to lose her grandpa.
I wonder why it is death makes us sad... Even the death of someone we haven't seen and have rarely thought of in several years.
To think, my mom's brother is dying. He was born on the same day as her, a year after her exactly.
I couldn't imagine losing my sister - not now, not 30 years from now, not ever.
And so, for whatever reason mortality and the many complexities of it are still perplexing to me, I felt the sadness well up, a distant, strange sadness... and decided the only thing I knew to do was write.
But not on facebook, which has long and by-far outstripped livejournal... but of course on livejournal, where I have always been able to lay bare whatever it was I was feeling, for less and less people to see.
I would like my uncle to be able to regain consciousness, to say his goodbyes. It's odd to lose a grandparent. I lost my grandfathers when I was 13 and 14 or 15. I don't remember it well. I never did. I remember riding in the hospital elevators when my first grandpa was sick... I remember visiting my second grandpa in the home when his mind was gone - at least he looked happy.
I remember crying at my first grandpa's funeral and having a poem read that I wrote. I remember skipping my second grandpa's funeral because I was too anxious to miss a day of school - and how that upset my family. I didn't mean to be selfish, I loved my grandpa...
I wonder if Shelby will remember this better than I remember those deaths that happened half my life ago.
I wonder if my mom and Uncle Danny will be able to talk once more before he leaves us.
'The funeral will be in Alabama,' Traycie related my cousin's words to me. Of course it will. That's where my mom's family is from, and where they go to be buried.
The weather outside is bleak here in Wisconsin, where I live thousands of miles from most of my family in Texas. Where my uncle and mom are in Houston. But the weather, which didn't suit the calmness of the morning: How odd to see the snow melt when the winter has been so cold, for so long... How odd to see the snow land and melt right away, and the ice-laden streams on the sidewalk...
The sky is grey and now I know that it does make sense. Nature knows things before we do.
And it is better at saying goodbye.