Can you ever be ready for the death of a parent? It seems unreal because she has as yet shown very few symptoms. We try to talk about what's going to happen, what needs to be done, in short bursts because that's as long as we can stand to think about it. We try to preserve a shadow of normality. I find myself thinking about what I'll do afterward, the logistics, whether I can have that painting of the sunflowers. Am I heartless? I haven't cried yet. I suppose I will.
I'm going to move this thread over to the Shark Tank, where I post more personal stuff. I'll try to keep this space devoted to matters more suited for outrage, bafflement and scorn.
I scarcely have the heart for politics right now, but I can't help but pay attention. I read somewhere tonight that Bush wants his mommy. Well, so do I--but I ain't the leader of the so-called free world. Get a grip, son.
(I'm linking to a post about the original article, because I'll be damned if I'm going to subscribe to the Washington Times.)
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