Mortality

You know, rarely do we dwell on mortality, especially our own and our loved ones'. Last night my sister's father-in-law, Jim Webster, died suddenly. He had a massive heart attack. Mom has gone to Franklin to keep my niece and nephew as the Websters try to piece things together and try to move forward.

Last night, Fiona talked to Mom on the phone and asked, "Gigi, you're not dead, are you?" She's four. Concepts like death and the finality of it are mostly incomprehensible at that age. Isaac, being nine, will have lots of questions, according to Mom.

This comes only a few days after Andrew's boss, Jim, passed away after a brief but intense fight with brain tumors.

I am somewhat depressed about all of this. It keeps bringing me back to the fact that my father has prostate cancer and that there is nothing anyone can do to cure it. They are slowing it down, but he is beyond removal or radiation packets eliminating it.

I don't want my dad to die. It hurts worse than I have ever let anyone know, and if I don't talk to you about it, please don't be upset. I can't talk to myself about it either.

OK, I've cried a little. Now it's time to move on for a bit.