Writing When You Don't Feel Like It

I feel like death is following me around.

It isn't, of course, but I'm still feeling the presence all around me.

My grandfather was given six months to live a while back and his health started to really decline in the beginning of December. He doesn't want to eat and his hospice care taker thinks that he pretty much needs to stay in bed. When a man is as old as he is, you know he's going to die. That isn't making it any easier on my mother. Truthfully, I'm more worried about her than him and I worried the whole time I was lying around the hospital with Charlie.

Then, yesterday, my SIL's father died. She's only like twenty-five and her mother died at this time of year last year. I know they were a little older, but neither of them were seventy or anything. He was here one day and the next day he was gone--they suspect he had a heart-attack while driving. I feel terrible for her--she has one brother and the two of them are going to have to deal with things like inheritance or probate, funeral arrangements, selling his house, and who knows what else. Yuck, Yuck, Yuck.

I'm a pretty faithful person and I don't worry about people after they die. I do spend a lot of time worrying about everyone else, though. Death is always an icky process whether it's quick or drawn-out. There are so many details and I can't imagine trying to handle them when you've got a huge loss to process as well. Even if you have a lot of faith, I think death is hard on the living both emotionally and mentally.

What a great holiday.

On a lighter note, I guest posted over at Ellen's and it should have gone up yesterday (Jan 1st). Check it out!