No snappy title. Brain just isn’t in it.

It’s been a month of Sundays since I’ve been on this blog.  In that time I’ve obviously become a 79-year-old woman who uses phrases like “a month of Sundays.”  I’ve also been playing a lot of Mahjong.  I haven’t taken up shuffleboard yet, but that’s really only because I don’t live on a cruise ship.

So, in that month of Sundays, all kinds of crap has happened.  Some good, some bad.  First, my boobs are good.  So that made me happy.

Sadly, my father-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer and died three weeks and two days after his diagnosis.  That sucked lemons and limes and exhaust pipes and anything else that would be kind of awful to suck on.  (I’m making a horribly inappropriate joke in my head right now.  In addition to being an elderly woman who likes card games, I’m also now a 14-year-old pubescent boy.   You can imagine Virginia Slims Man’s joy at this development.)

Cancer is a raging psyco-bitch.  As is death.

Piece of advice, do not try to explain death to a 3-year-old.  Your conversation will sound like this:

The Beast:  Are we going to Grandpa’s house?

Me: Yes, honey, but Grandpa won’t be there.

The Beast:  Why won’t Grandpa be there?

Me:  Well, baby, Grandpa was very sick and he died.

The Beast:  Grandpa died?  Where is he?

Me: (This question is difficult for me.  Because of my religious upbringing I have great uncertainty about where my Father-in-law’s soul is at this very minute.  I decided to keep it simple.)  He’s in heaven, honey.

The Beast:  I want to go to heaven.

Me:  Me, too, but I don’t want to go there right now.

The Beast:  Let’s go to heaven and see Grandpa.

Me:  Well, we can’t get to heaven right now.

The Beast:  Let’s go drive to the hotel and sleep at the hotel and then drive to heaven.

Me:  We can’t get to heaven in the car.

The Beast:  Let’s get in the airplane and fly to heaven and see Grandpa.  That’ll be a great idea.

Me: Okay.  Well, we can’t get to heaven in an airplane. (Although I’m fairly certain that if I get into an airplane I will be visiting heaven shortly thereafter.)

The Beast:  Grandpa died?

Me:  Yes, honey.  Grandpa died.

After this, we entered my father-in-law’s house to visit with family and make funeral arrangements.  The Beast walked into the house, saw all of the family members sitting around and announced, “Where’s Grandpa?”

So that was fun.

Anyway, I thought I’d let you know that I’ve been sitting in my house, playing Mahjong and eating junk food for about a month.  I have all kinds of things to share about The Beast and school and why I’m looking for a new school and how I almost kicked in the teeth of his school director, but that’ll have to wait for another day.

For now, a recap.  Boobs are good.  Cancer sucks.  Death blows.  And you can’t explain death to a toddler.

Amen.

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7 thoughts on “No snappy title. Brain just isn’t in it.

  1. Cyber hugs to you. Death does suck.

    Just keep writing, whenever you’re ready and willing, because you are fantastic and I look forward to reading your posts. =]

    Until then, bask in Mahjong glory.

  2. I’m sorry you lost your Father-in-law. I’m making a huge assumption here, but I’m glad (if I’m correct) that he didn’t suffer for too long. Thanks for your humorous-in-the-face-of-awfulness post.

  3. Ugh, I’m sorry!! What a sucky month…
    Wish I could say something great and helpful and insightful.
    Probably not any of those things with this, but it is heartfelt: thinking of you.

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