After less than three weeks under hospice care, my husband’s grandfather died last night. We’ll be heading that direction for visitation and funeral when we know what the arrangements are… probably Monday viewing & Tuesday services. And then the games will begin, with Tony’s dad playing the role of a Hatfield, and his uncle portraying a McCoy, and several other family members taking their cues from the classic “Tobacco Road.” I’m dreading the drama. (These are people who, the night of their mother’s funeral, actually counted and divided the contents of the lady’s change purse, because they’re so concerned that one might actually get a nickel more than the other!)
I intend to play two roles at these functions: help keep Tony sane by keeping his stepmom as far from him as possible, and, if necessary, play the “I’m pregnant andand delicate and need you to get me out of here NOW” if things get too fraught. (Not that Tony won’t just walk away from the bullshit, but he’s entirely likely to tell each and every one of his paternal family members which asscheek they can kiss first… timely intervention may prevent that, at least.)