My grandfather called my dad in the morning to tell him his mother - my grandmother - died. She was 74, which is a venerable age, but for the last two or three years her mental health was declining very fast and in the end she was just lying in her bed. She's been a school teacher and a very patient, religious woman. I'm trying to recollect all those good moments we had together now, then I'm off drinking to her memory.
We stop these times a little and wonder, remember and then move on, for that is the order of things. I have a few posts prepared but I won't be posting this week or the first part of the next. I have exams and studies which will require the last bits of self-control and attention.
Also I usually keep these things to myself until I work it up and get over it, but this time it had to be done.