Weekend of I Don't Even Know
I was in CL yesterday for my grandparents' 60th anniversary.
Gilmore's home; I went to visit. Face and Jolene were there. It was good, mostly. It was weird. The last time I saw Gilmore he didn't remember my brother; this time he asked how Matt Pytlik was doing. Last time I saw him, it took us like ten minutes to lift his mostly limp body from his bed and situate him in a walker contraption so he could go across the room; this time I saw him take a step forward and pivot and set himself down into a chair. So, improvement all around, which is great... but the last time I saw him he was in the hospital, and his impaired behavior made sense at the hospital; this time, he was home.
Grandma is doing well. Grandpa is hanging on. This weekend was the first benchmark. Now, my graduation is the next benchmark. Then so on and so forth until Rachel graduates from college in six years. That takes him to 88. He told me he'd like to see it, and I said, "I bet. I'd like to see you see it." Both of us know he's not going to see it. I haven't had any kind of a talk like this with him. Even brushing the edge of it freaked me out. It's difficult to look at him without feeling myself hollow out.
I go home for a weekend like this and it's emotional and hectic, but all around, it's good. I spend five or more hours driving back down to SOhio, and I look at the week and the work that starts tomorrow, and I want to shoot my fucking brains out. I guess I'm lucky that final papers are the obstacles I have to overcome, but there are many different kinds of luck.
I am going to be at this computer for the next 120 hours, and then I am going to fucking graduate.
Gilmore's home; I went to visit. Face and Jolene were there. It was good, mostly. It was weird. The last time I saw Gilmore he didn't remember my brother; this time he asked how Matt Pytlik was doing. Last time I saw him, it took us like ten minutes to lift his mostly limp body from his bed and situate him in a walker contraption so he could go across the room; this time I saw him take a step forward and pivot and set himself down into a chair. So, improvement all around, which is great... but the last time I saw him he was in the hospital, and his impaired behavior made sense at the hospital; this time, he was home.
Grandma is doing well. Grandpa is hanging on. This weekend was the first benchmark. Now, my graduation is the next benchmark. Then so on and so forth until Rachel graduates from college in six years. That takes him to 88. He told me he'd like to see it, and I said, "I bet. I'd like to see you see it." Both of us know he's not going to see it. I haven't had any kind of a talk like this with him. Even brushing the edge of it freaked me out. It's difficult to look at him without feeling myself hollow out.
I go home for a weekend like this and it's emotional and hectic, but all around, it's good. I spend five or more hours driving back down to SOhio, and I look at the week and the work that starts tomorrow, and I want to shoot my fucking brains out. I guess I'm lucky that final papers are the obstacles I have to overcome, but there are many different kinds of luck.
I am going to be at this computer for the next 120 hours, and then I am going to fucking graduate.