Forever ago, just now

I have no idea when I started this blog because I never actually started it. At some point, years ago I think, I set this up with the goal to write something, anything, each and every day. Well, that never happened. Frankly I forgot about it completely. But I knew I had another, old yet not forgotten, blog on blogger so I checked my account and sure enough there were several long forgotten failed attempts. But today I have something to say and this is the blog I have decided to revive. It maintains the original title in the url of my year of something (anything!) and I am totally okay with that. Maybe I will write something, anything, every day (or, hopefully, close to it).

(Fast forward to three years from now when I open this again and see this one, lone post from now.)

As to what I have to say here, now: I am afraid my father in law is dying. It is very, very sad. We will know more later today, or maybe we will know nothing for sure, but he isn't doing well and it isn't looking good. I wanted a place to write because the pain of losing him, or the possibility of losing him, isn't mine. I mean, it is to some extent. But it is his wife's pain, his children's pain, his sister's pain, first and foremost. I am okay with that and will be here for him and for them. I am good at putting my feelings aside to help other's when they need it most. But this seems like a good, safe place for me to express my own sadness, to mourn the man who has been a second father to me for over sixteen years. Not that I am mourning yet! Nor do I mean to come across as prematurely pessimistic. But though he is still here, he is not the same man he was, and it is overwhelmingly sad.

My husband and I are so very fortunate. All our parents are still here. They were here for our wedding and have a close relationship with our four children. Neither of us were so luck as to have four living grandparents. My parents have eight grandchildren, my in-laws have six, and my own children have been raised with close, loving relationships with their two grandmothers, two grandfathers, one great-grandmother (!), six cousins, four aunts, four uncles, and other extended family (one great-aunt and uncle, my own aunt and uncle, in particular have made it a point to be a dear part of their lives, something I am forever grateful for).

Our parents have lived to see all their kids settled, married, homeowners, and on a good, solid path for a successful life. Should it be their times, it's okay. They've succeeded in life. But it is hard to come to terms with being the age where it is okay, dare I say normal, to start losing one's own parents. It makes me feel like a "real grownup" more than having my own kids, signing a mortgage, attending a friend's divorce, ever did.