Timing

Phone calls are funny things. They change character depending on when you receive them. For example, any calls during business hours, or during the early evening, are completely normal and fine. Any received between 10 pm and 12 am are a little suspect. Between 12 am and 6 am immediately put you on guard. And between 6 am and 8 am, say 6:45, for example, also fall into the suspect category. Caller ID also changes them. An unknown number in the suspect time periods leads to confusion, as it's perhaps a wrong number. But familiar numbers are different. Say, your parents' number. 6:45 in the morning plus Mom and Dad's number equals Bad News. Equals your mom calling to tell you that your grandfather passed away sometime last night.

Mom says it's a relief, and I suppose it is. He was a shade of the man he was last summer, who in turn was a shade of the man I saw in 2000. Physically, at least. Mom said he hadn't eaten in three days when he had a small heart attack, which was all it took. But he was still witty, and smart, and amazing. His body just couldn't... anymore.

And then I think about timing. Mom said that they'd just gotten word that they had a place in a nursing home, finally. What timing. We're painting our bathroom this weekend in part because I wanted to take pictures of the new window with the new colour around it to send to Mormor and Morfar, since they provided the funds that helped us replace it. I wanted them to see it before... because I knew it wouldn't be long. We put it off too long, maybe, except we really didn't. Again, timing. I am happy at least that they got the picture of Mike and I before...

Mom leaves either today or tomorrow to go to the funeral, and to help get everything settled with my grandmother. And I am disgusted with myself, because I feel, somewhere between hope and fear, that sick, disturbing point right between them, that there may be a second funeral before she returns.

I will try to find some closure. I will try to be glad that he is no longer in pain and suffering the machinations of a failing body. It's just so fresh right now. Despite a continent and an ocean and a language barrier, he was still my grandfather, and I miss him.