Daddy died at 8:30 this morning. I’m stunned and savagely shattered. Silly as this is, it never occurred to me that he’d die before me. After all, Grandpa lived to be 99 years old. I believe I’ll spend the rest of today puking and crying.
I know, I know, they’re giving their best estimates given the symptoms he’s exhibiting. Still, even with the wonky state I’m in, Ten and I could’ve made the long drive (10 hours) down and sat with him, telling silly stories, gossiping and whatnot. With the inaccurate warnings, I didn’t think there was time.
Guess what – there was. An important, lost opportunity.
You may be thinking “why not fly?”
A. I’m in a wheelchair for all distances over 20 feet. I know the airlines have wheelchairs but I need my own. Possible to bring onboard? Don’t know.
B. Though I’m fully vaccinated, I’m still concerned about all those disease denying anti-vaxxers. I RILLY don’t want to be stuck sitting next to or anywhere near a Typhoid Mary or Mitch.
So, I continue in Dread State, checking my phone every ten minutes for the devastating bad news text.