This morning I got a call from one of my cousins in Austin. My grandmother Judy died overnight; she’d had a brief illness.
I’m not as close as I should be with that side of the family, but my grandfather is the single person on earth I admire most, even if it’s hard to get close to him. He’s now outlived two wives - my natural grandmother, who died when I was not yet two, and now Judy, the grandmother I really knew (they married when I was four). He outlived his only daughter, my mother, who is buried next to her mother. My uncle, who has a girlfriend but no children, and I are his only blood left. Thank god for Judy’s children and grandchildren.
I’m flying to Texas tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll tell everyone first - I need time on my own. I need to visit my mother’s grave.
It’s been a bad run. Right before Thanksgiving, 2000, my stepmom’s mother died of a sudden heart attack. Two months later my dad’s mother, after a long illness. I feel like I should be getting stronger from this - maybe I am. But it’s a helluva way to do it.
