We have this large white candle burning much of the time, like a form of prayer. My mom thinks it's a Catholic thing. She's not clear on the theology, but it makes her feel better, and that's what's important.
Her friend Linnea called the other day. She had broken her ankle (?), said she called to depress us. "Not possible," my mother said, "unless you're dying."
RILEY: How're you doing?
BUFFY: Complicated question.
RILEY: I just meant --
BUFFY: I know.
RILEY: I hear you. Got big stories to tell you, too. We get half a sec, we can compare and contrast.
BUFFY: Did you die?
BUFFY: I'm gonna win.
-"As You Were" (6.15)
I was thinking about the D-word. I tell people "My mother's father is dying," both in print and en voz, because he is. Lung cancer and congestive heart failure. One of those is going to kill him. He's 83 and he has days or weeks left to live. I remember in high school my best friend's grandfather was dying. Her father flew to Ireland to be with him. I don't remember us dancing around the D-word.
My mother was talking to someone recently who said she should have compassion with people who can't bring themselves to say the D-word. My mother was too tired to argue, but she's not up for having compassion for anybody except Naomi (her father's wife) and, ya know, maybe immediate family and stuff.
:( I miss having my own computer. I went to set it up myself but i need an extension cord and i don't know where one is and i don't know where my dad is.
I got most of my clothes put away yesterday, though, and will be doing a couple of errands later today. I'm starting to feel less overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff. I'm also less panicked about Oxford. (Donations to the Send-Elizabeth-to-Oxford-Fund now being accepted, but of course almost everyone who reads this is as poor as i am.)