Not Crying Yet

My grandpa fell last night (not the one who loves the Cubs, the one whose wife fell last week). He hurt his knee and had to crawl into the house.

Crawl.

They are going to sell their house and move into an assisted living facility.

It's not unexpected. Not even necessarily a bad thing.

It just feels that way.

I feel like I have been punched in the stomach.

Poor J. I was irrational last night. Thrilled about the baseball playoffs one minute, crying like a crazy person the next. Then both at once.

I know that I am lucky to have all four of them. None of them are healthy and are beating odds to just be alive. Let alone live on their own in their own homes.

It doesn't make me feel better. I can't really imagine a world where my grandpa isn't sitting on his own porch, doing a crossword puzzle (filling in all the wrong answers) and sneaking Snickers bars out of that same jar they have been in, hidden in the same place since I have been alive.

I am going to have to start imagining it. Actually I am going to have to start living it.

Just don't let me cry at work.