OK, I’m back — or at least for a little while.
Went back home to say goodbye to my grandmother, who stubbornly refuses to die on schedule. Wednesday night should have been her last. By 7pm, she was at eight breaths per minute, oxygen saturation down around 75%. She’d been completely unresponsive — comatose — all day.
Then she sat upright and demanded a smoke and a Coke.
This repeated itself twice during the night and following morning, with one vital difference: In the morning, she wanted some of those Krispy Kremes over there. Imagine this, please, from a woman who has refused food since being diagnosed with her third round of lung cancer.
I’d said my goodbyes, couldn’t keep riding on the Six Flags Over Mid-America Emotional Rollercoaster, and have too much work to do here — so I came home.
I’ll be leaving town again sometime for the funeral, which we expect to be sooner rather than later.
But after the last couple of days, who the hell knows, really?
So many of you sent condolences, and without even knowing what was going on. Heartfelt thanks to all of you.
Let me say that again, because I mean it so much and I don’t have any better words: Thank you.
Beverly Macon led a big life. Big joys, big sorrows, and she’s even going out with a big finish. I got to see her one last time, and she got to see me, so I’m done with the tears.
Smile with me instead.