When my ninety-two-year-old mother
died (granted we had a strained
relationship), I felt sad that
things could not have been
other.
When my ninety-eight-year-old mother-
in-law died (granted we had an
un-strained relationship), I felt
very sad because it
reminded
me of the tragic death of her daughter, my
late wife, over whom I cried three-
hundred-sixty-five days straight
and a gazillion eighteen-wheeler
loads of tears in the
eighteen years
since.
When my eighty-seven-year-old mother-in-law
by my wonderful wife died, we met for
a memorial service eight states away
and enjoyed the
fellowship.
When my ninety-three-year old father-in-law
died, I watched the immediate
family
cry.
Now I sit and watch my one-hundred-fifteen-year-
old Chocolate Lab limp, cough, breathe
laboriously, sleep fitfully and I, in
anticipatory grief,
convulse.
I’m heartbroken …