That's what my father-in-law has taken to calling me lately, and rather what it feels like to me.
For some reason a lot of people I know peripherally are either getting sick or dying. None of them are close friends, no relatives, nothing terribly traumatic for me (as opposed to their friends and family, some of these are major tragedies), but the aggregate of sheer numbers is starting to get to me.
To stick to this week alone: Sunday, my FIL's lady friend landed in the ICU with congestive heart failure and is now scheduled for a valve replacement. Tuesday my yoga teacher's father (met once) died. And Friday our neighbor across the street died. None of these people had known problems a week ago. Our neighbor is particularly shocking. He was only five years or so older than Rob & I, and while he was on disability for a bad back, there was nothing known wrong that should have caused a sudden death. Rob & I are trying to figure out what we can do for his wife & kid (he had a 14-year old boy). Offers of "anything we can do" all to often turn out to mean nothing because people don't want to impose, so we're trying to think of something more concrete we can offer.
I was very glad to get to a particularly vigorous karate class last night, I needed the sheer physical work to shake my head clear. M was back again, and Sensei had him teach part of the class, which became a quickie primer on jiu-jitsu style ground work. Fascinating and vigorous, even if it gives me a somewhat sore neck this morning, due to working on fending off a full-speed/force choke attempt.
Other random news - Robbie is signed up for band in middle school next year. He'll be playing flute. Rob has started adding fish to his salt water tank: chromis, clownfish, niger, and a white-tail angel fish. And Dad W. has got to get a hobby or something, because I'm starting to feel like I have a retired husband - but I never married this guy!
1 comment:
I always find that pre cooked casseroles that can be frozen are a good thing to take to a grieving family. I know that when my husband left me (not the same as a death, I know) the last thing I felt like doing was cooking. I lived for the next month on Ding Dongs and Pop-Tarts.
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