I took down my previous post about my grandfather, because I was afraid if he or my grandmother saw it online (yeah, they’re online, in a very e-mail-only sorta way) it would seem like a premature eulogy and I didn’t want to freak them out. Personally I think eulogies are best delivered to the living, so that people know how they’ve touched lives and have the peace of knowing how much they mattered.
I saw my grandfather on Saturday at my mom’s house. We sat outside
and I listened to him talk, hoarse as he was, and tell me a lot of
really good stories I hadn’t heard before. One thing he said, though,
was that everyone who approaches him does so with such sorrow
(emphasis was his, not mine), and they feel sorry for him. I told him I
don’t feel sorry for him, but I feel sorry for us if we don’t hear
everything he has to tell us. What I didn’t tell him is that I was not
approaching him with sorrow, that’s just what my face looks like
nowadays. Kinda 43-ish with some extra “me” underneath my chin and eyes.
So anyway. That was before they saw the oncologist, and the news he gave them was not
encouraging. The chemotherapy, which he started orally today until he
can get a port placed for systemic chemo, is expected to be quite harsh
on his system, and not expected to have much of a positive outcome. My
grandmother sounded very discouraged. In my whole life, I’ve never heard
her sound like that. Even when she was going through sad times in life,
she was like one of those news announcers who animatedly describes the
situation with wave upon wave of hyperbole. Today she sounded whupped.
Yesterday on the way home from an appointment, during evening rush
hour no less, we came upon an intersection that was as busy with birds
as it was with cars. Since I hadn’t brought my camera, the kids thought
they were off the hook. But my phone has a fine camera, so I got some
pictures of this huge blobby wave of birds as it flew and landed and
flew again – not south for the summer, but west. With our lack of true
winter around here, we may be as south as they need to get. Who knows?
In any case, these are my pictures from the drive home, birds and
traffic at sunset, San Antonio, Texas.
The final picture is my gray boy, who decided that not only does he
want me to open the people door so he can go outside (rather than coming
in and out the doggie door), he would really appreciate it if I would
get out of bed and turn on the bathroom faucet for him so he doesn’t
have to go downstairs and outside for a drink of water before bed. So he
goes in the bathroom (in the dark) and stands peeking back out the
door, and whines most pitifully until we go turn on the water for him.
He does this, because it works. He has us so well trained.