So I have started the new Detective Lilah novel. I think I said that in a previous blog post (oh yeah, talking about obliterating faces!). Since then, the “real world” intruded in a big way: My grandfather was dying.
I got the call from my mother, and I dropped everything. Drove 300 miles to be with her, and be supportive. Plus, hell, it was MY grandpa. The man who on Sunday’s (when I was a kid), had me gather all the stuffed animals, climb into bed, and we’d play submarine or naval boat (he had been in WWII)). And he’d always just been there. This man who’d had fascinating bug collections (he was an entomologist), and stories of times past. Who out lived two wives, and a son. He was going to b e around forever, right?
Forever, it seems, stops at 93. Two strokes this year, and pneumonia was too much for him. I went with my mom to say good-bye, to tell him how loved he was by myself and my children (who couldn’t be there), and to tell him it was ok, he could go. I talked with Hospice and helped work out his plan of care. And waited. He died six days after I got there. And then his funeral was another two weeks.
I didn’t write at all during this time. I couldn’t. Nothing came to mind, though I was missing Detective Lilah Evans’ world, I couldn’t get there. Two days before the funeral, my Aunt on the other side of my family died. That makes 9 in less then two years. 9 people I loved and cared about. 9 people I’ll never see, or talk to again. 9 amazing people this world no longer has to fight it’s fights, and make the world a nicer, brighter place. 9….
Can I be done now?
PS: Found my way back to AU Seattle.