I may lose a grandfather this week. It looks as though Grandpa Cahill will be the fourth of my grandfathers to die. And I know that some day Grandpa Corbin will make five. I have not lost a grandmother yet, not in body at least. Grandma Cahill’s mind is all but lost to Alzheimer’s now, and any memory of me most likely with it. Eventually, all too soon, my five grandmothers will join their husbands. And this thought overwhelms me, the idea of burying ten grandparents.
Where does my heart go in these moments? Why do I find it so difficult to find feeling when it seems like it should be most unavoidable? I would be angry if I could stir up the passion. At least grant me joy in the memory of ten grandparents’ love. Where are those memories?
Time for bed. Perhaps sleep will bring answers ...
