Life is Finite
We got the call on Saturday while we were at the wedding. It's a weird thing emotionally to leave a friend's wedding to go to Brandon's grandfather's house and wait for the funeral home to arrive and pick up the body. October 30, 2010 marks the day that Brandon's grandfather, Jack, died. He left a legacy for a family that will remember him forever.
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I learned that family is powerful. I watched daughters come around their dying father and give. They cooked, they cleaned, they cared for so that in the end their father would be comfortable. So comfortable that he didn't even realize he was sick. At 6 feet tall Jack was down to 115 pounds, unable to use the restroom (kidney failure), and no appetite (although the occasional doughnut and cigarette sufficed).
Life is so finite. Death is a slap-in-the-face-reminder that life has an ending-- a point that will force all internal clockwork to a stop-- when the last breath is gasped and body finally lets go. There's something mysterious and powerful about death. I'm not trying to assert morbid thoughts, I'm just reflecting enough to wonder how my own un-infinite life will play out.
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