It was November. Buddy’s birthday was approaching. I was midway through my pregnancy with Sissy and the big gender reveal ultrasound was scheduled for the next day. I wasn’t feeling too good. In addition to being pregnant I had some sort of respiratory infection. And I got a call about my maternal grandmother. She wasn’t doing too well. She would need surgery and there was a good chance she wouldn’t survive.
It wasn’t a big shock. She’s in her 80s. She’s been on a downward spiral for a long time. Dementia, strokes, and now a fall that shocked her weakened body. Besides, I’d been lucky to get into my 30s with all four grandparents alive. I told myself this was bound to happen eventually.
I took a day off work and drove up to the hospital. When I walked in my grandma was vibrant. “I’m so sorry I’m not going to live to see Buddy’s birthday.” She said.