Blessed.

I read today on Kittygirl92's page here that Subiha died. I am sorry it was so.

I'm twenty four going on twenty five next June. And I've never had a funeral to go to. Never even had one that I was invited too. No one I knew personally has ever died. Except one lady who I lost contact with years ago. I'll put it another way. I've only ever been given news of somebody's death second, or third hand.

I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it will eventually. I'm just greatful. Greatful that it has lasted so much longer than I had any right to expect it to.

It can't go on much longer, sadly. My grandfather in Cooperstown is very ill. Nothing in particular, and everything in general. Failing heart, failing body, various ailments from general deterioration. It should be said that he is in his middle eighties. Unlike my equally old grandmother back in Tucson, Pop (as we all call him) will not die well. He will go piece, by grueling piece. And it will be hell to watch, to hear about, and to be a part of.

You see, I'm the local rep for our family now. It used to be my sister who goes to school at West Point, she was on the right side of the continent and even in the right state. But I'm closer now than she ever was (geographically) and I'm fixed, as opposed to being shipped to various training posts like she is...

And yet I've not been out to see them since I got here. In fairness, I did go right after I arrived for a two day visit and to pick up some furniture. That was a month ago now. It's slightly more than two months to thanksgiving. I wonder if I can justify putting it off that long, or if I should make the trek sometime sooner.

Being there is a small slice of nicely insulated hell. My grandmother is adelpated. Can't take care of herself but she lies about it to the insurance man whenever he interviews her so even the insurance company's hands (and they are well insured for elder care) are tied, since she won't ask for the help.

Pop is a little better than when I spent the summer with them two years ago. I write them once in a while, they don't write back. But I do get a card for most holidays and occasions, and gifts for birthday and Christmas of course.

I don't know what to do. There's little I can affect by being there, except to say that I have, in fact, done everything I can, and that alone, I admit, is worth it. But it's this feeling of impotant frustration. There's nothing I can do, except watch it get worse. And I hate being in that house, for a variety of reasons. Grandma Nancy is insane. Grandpop still has his mind but his body has failed him, and he doesn't much care anymore. They have in home health care workers who do the ugly stuff, and all I can do is sit and watch, and lend a hand where I can force one in. Grandma Nancy doesn't let anyone help unless you make her.

I take there money, greatfuly, because I need it and I do appreciate it. But theres nothing I can do. And knowing that there's nothing I can do actually makes it worse. If there were something I could do, and I just wasn't able to do it right now, that at least would make me feel capable of helping. But I can't.

The damned cursor is blinking at me, it keeps waiting for me to say something else... except I'm out of clever prose.

::deep breath:: It's out of my hands, in fact it was never in my hands. That's something. Not a whole lot, but it's something. =)


Alexi