In the midst of chaos: Life goes on, except when it doesn’t. Auntie Emm wrote last night to say that my grandmother has had it with petering out slowly and painfully, and has stopped taking food and medicine. I think this is an amazing and right decision on Joan’s part–not that it’s for me to say. But, for myself and for K, ouch.
Long and short of it: I feel much grief already, of course, and expect to be winging it to Saint Albert in a state of woe in the not too distant.
Edited to add the thing I told Ana: One of the dumb move things that is making it harder is that our stuff was, originally, supposed to have arrived last week. If Great Canadian Van Lines had delivered as promised, I would at least have a black dress and the freedom to jet off to Alberta any time I wished. As it is, the stuff hasn’t arrived and Kelly is having a ferociously hellish time getting the mover and the building move-in coordinator on the same page.
She must, at this point, have made twenty phone calls or more trying to get the driver to commit to a time when the elevator’s free. We need to know when the stuff will come so we can know when I might hypothetically go.
Casualties of move: Rumble is very pleased to announce he has finally managed to bust one of our possessions. And as a bonus, it’s a mouse! He knocked it off the desk this morning and now it does not right click.
Speaking of cats, here’s one of the neighbors:
Condolences on your grandmother.
My mother did the same thing; she was diagnosed with a rare form of rapid-onset bone marrow cancer, and was told that with radical treatments (radiation and chemo) she might live six months to a year. She turned it down — said that was just prolonging the dying — and moved into a hospice, refusing anything but morphine. We all came to say goodbye, and I remember her saying (it struck me so this is a near quote):
“I’ve gone everywhere I wanted to go and done everything I wanted to do, I’ve seen my great-grandchildren, and I never had to bury any of my own. I’ve lived as long as people live, I’m old and tired, it’s time to go.”
It’s damned hard to let go when you love someone so much, but asking them to suffer on is wrong. Your mom sounds like a wise woman.
Sweetie, we send you and Kelly love and hugs.
Thanks, darling.
One of the dumb move things that is making it harder is that our stuff was, originally, supposed to have arrived last week. If Great Canadian Van Lines had delivered as promised, I would at least have a black dress and the freedom to jet off to Alberta any time I wished. As it is, the stuff hasn’t arrived and Kelly is having a ferociously hellish time getting the mover and the building move-in coordinator on the same page.
She must, at this point, have made twenty phone calls or more trying to get the driver to commit to a time when the elevator’s free.
I hope the elevators in your building keep working despite the strike. Heck of a time to move in.
Booking the one working elevator has had its challenges, but things are coming together slowly. Thanks!