Oh boy, what a week!

Hubby and I celebrated with friends on Saturday – he was at an eleven-hour LAN party (Diablo II) and I went to a girls’ night party. We all met up at the end of the night and partied some more. Thankfully, I didn’t have to get up early on Sunday.

Monday, being Memorial Day, was super fun for me. Not only did I have the day off from work, a paid holiday, but I got to spend time with my sister, mom, and grandma. Sis and I drove up north about 3 hours to go to our family’s cabin. I haven’t been there since I was 12 or 14, so it’s been quite a while.

Memorial weekend is the weekend that my grandparents open up the cabins for the season. There are 2 houses up there – the old house (my grandparents’ place) and the new house (my great-grandparents’ place). Even though my great-grandparents passed away years ago and my grandfather passed three years ago, I still differentiate them that way. With the new house being, well, new, my grandma has stayed in that one rather than the old house. The electrical, water, and heat work better there. And there is a washer/dryer set and a nice, updated kitchen.

She’s getting on in years, so the little comforts like that are great.
But I’m not saying she’s old or anything. I mean, she’s only in her late 70’s. And she’s just as active and spunky as ever.

I still worry though. Since grandpa died, she hasn’t been the same. It’s expected I know, but it’s really hard seeing her age.
I grew up knowing my dad’s parents, my mom’s parents, and my moms grandparents. And by know, I mean I spent holidays and birthdays and other days with them. I spent a whole month living with great-grandma after her hip surgery to help her out. They were all alive well into my teens.

But life happens. Aging and illness happen.
My great-grandfather battled leukemia and Alzheimer’s. He was in his eighties. Great-grandma wasn’t too far behind him; she died 3 years later.
My maternal grandfather had renal cancer. He fought it for a few years, but it wore him down. That was really rough on us grand-kids. We had all grown up with him being a robust, happy man. He taught us to catch frogs, bait hooks, and clean fish. We watched him waste away. He was also in his eighties.
My paternal grandparents were almost ninety.  Grandpa got sick first. He had cancer, too. While he lay in one hospital bed, Grandma was admitted across the hall with pneumonia.
We knew it was getting close to the end for Grandpa. Most of us went to visit, to say goodbye. I saw him. I didn’t recognize him. I couldn’t bear to see him like that, so I went across the hall and spent time with Grandma. She was quiet and obviously worn down. But I chatted with her.
The morning that Grandpa died, Grandma was in particularly bad shape. She had a secondary infection.
She only lasted another 5 days. She couldn’t be away from him.

I knew them all. I love them all.
Going up to the lake is my way of connecting to a time when I still had them in my life. It’s like putting a little stop in time, even if it’s only for a day.

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