Good news arrived as requested: my great-uncle Rudy (the one married to Aunt Dor, for those of you keeping score at home) got through his surgery with flying colors and was recovering beautifully.
And the stuff that wasn't good today wasn't exactly news. So.
We seem to have gotten through the 14th without anything awful. On February 14, Grandpa went into the hospital, and on March 14 he took his last turn for the worse. Today, nothing of the sort. (I have no idea what would qualify as "of the sort." People are unique and irreplaceable. Grandpa more so than most.) I sat in the quiet house by myself just now, after Timprov went to bed--markgritter
is in California and Ista is at the grandmonkeys', although she will come over with my mom tomorrow to Help Mormor, as she is a Very Helpful Poodle)--and I read Just So Stories
, all the ones I read to Grandpa when he was in the hospital and the ones we didn't get to this time around. And they were just where I left them. No one had gone in and changed them while I wasn't looking. And now they are up on the shelf and will continue to be where I left them, approximately, allowing for other people to take the book down and read it, which is good, too.
Someone said--I can't remember whether it was an open post, so I'll leave it vague--that they were not sure how we could bear to read "Against Entropy" aloud in honor of Dr. Mike on Friday night of Minicon, though they thought it was a good and appropriate thing. And I said that for myself, it was hard, but I could bear it because the alternative of not doing it seemed worse. I think a lot of memorial stuff is like that. Doing positive things in memory is so very hard sometimes. But so very much better than not doing them. And anyway I had almost forgotten about the butterfly that stamped.