That's life.

Words are running through my head so rampantly that it's hard to pin down just exactly what I want to say; several situations have given me cause to blog over the last few weeks, but I just haven't taken the time to sit down and iron everything out.

I'll try to keep it short, but there are no promises. If this post, then, becomes too weighty, feel free to return at another time.

It is almost better to lose someone quickly, unexpectedly, than to watch them decline right in front of you. The only advantage is getting to say goodbye.
Several of us in the family are certain that gran has started her final descent: she's exhibiting marked slowing, both physically and mentally.
Mom goes to see her every day after work and often has to step out of the room to compose herself again.
A trip to the hospital gave her a bit of vitality back (it was probably the 4 units of blood they gave her) and they found that she has a large varicose vein in the skin of her esophagus, which is probably where she keeps losing her blood from. (Why has no other endoscopic GI procedure revealed this??)
Ever since my aunt passed away nearly two years ago, I have known that gran has been in decline. It's just picking up speed now, and it fucking hurts.

My cousin has made a stupid decision that I do not support regarding the rearing of her son.
I know, I know: she doesn't need my support or my permission as Avery is her son. However, she has never raised a child before for more than a few months and I do not trust her judgement. (Yes, yes, I know -- I've never raised a child before either. But I know that a child needs permanence and stability, neither of which she can provide in her current situation.)

That reminds me: the minute that I did not get the job with the PD I surrendered any possible possibilities that I had to adopt and raise Avery. My explication in the previous post (RE: being a possible candidate for his adoptive family) was simply a statement that I would be honored to be considered. I knew that there was no way in hell that any social worker or judge would allow a child to be adopted by someone making $600 a month. (Yep: it would take me two months to pay for the $1000 adoption fee!)

Today we are getting rid of the goats. The neighbor from next door (the tender of the herd that Bailey loved watching all last summer) has bought them and just needs to come pick them up. He already has ten adults and nine kids, so what is two more, really?
It is going to be so wonderful NOT having to fix fence in my pajamas, like I have done countless mornings already.

My uncle has finished his first round of chemo. He has said that he's on oxygen 24/7 now, but as to whether the cancer is gone or smaller or whatever...no one knows. He's keeping that bit to himself. He has never been a big talker of scary topics like that. Que sera, sera.

There.
Blogged.

(Please be advised: the preceding statements are all significantly shortened and are to serve as summaries of the topics discussed.)