My grandmother died Oct. 10. She’d spent the last few arduous months in and out of the hospital and back to the nursing home, then back to the hospital, battling rounds of infections and pain that kept her from resting peacefully enough to heal. She had fallen and hurt her shoulder and spine a couple of months ago and it just snowballed from there. She’d been in declining health for a couple of years, her…
Memorial Day weekend was also the weekend my grandmother turned 78 years old. She’s my only remaining grandparent and I am working on the technology to allow her to live forever.
It rained on my grandmother’s parade. “Story of my life,” she said as we huddled under the church awning Saturday afternoon, watching the rain thin the already light crowd. River Day isn’t like it used to be. I have these (probably embellished) memories of huge crowds of people in sweatshirts and jackets (they used to have it in October when it was cooler) set against a backdrop of autumn leaves and damp blacktopped streets, milling…
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