the grandfather clock will soon stop ticking
I'm back from Guatemala. I now realize exactly how much and why I hate family vacations, esp in third world countries. I pray never again. Two weeks in close quarters is far too much. I'm leaving today, again. My grandfather is on his death bed. I'm taking clothes for the funeral. It's my dad's dad. My dad said he hasn't gotten out of bed today and refused to get clothes for the funeral. He called back an hour or two after he left to instruct my mom which suit he wanted. My mom said he never woke up. I'm wondering if they are just not telling me that he is already dead, saving up for after we are on the road or breaking it to me at the house. Papa's decline has been spread out over the past half year. I'll be in South Carolina soon, maybe soon enough. I don't know if I'd rather be there before or after his death. I hope my dad gets to reidville before he dies, if it happens today. Change is coming regardless. He was given three weeks tops. From a braintumor - he should have gotten the mri I had last fall, but even if it was caught earlier I doubt it would change much. He just had a birthday on June 15th. The day after my father's. He's 83. A father, carpenter, and farmer. He raised beef cattle. I am vegetarian. He fought in World War II, in the navy. I don't know if he saw any action. He is against tattoos. He called me clyde and warned me about wasps by the creek. I got stung 6 times. He still gave me ice. I knew him better than I knew my mom's mother who died a few years ago. I hear more stories about her than I remember how she was. I didn't cry when she died. I'm crying now, but i don't want to. He always told me to stop crying. I have to get my mom's hanging up bag. We should leave. The country is calling. He lived a good life. He died thursday