Stretching Out to Eternity...

This week, my Grandmother, Margaret Ann Strand, passed away. We were expecting it. We had about a week's notice that the infection she had was not improving and that there was little the doctors could do about it. She was ready to go. We were not ready for her to leave us. All her life she looked after other people. She was one of the oldest of several children so she no doubt spent much of her childhood helping to care for the younger children in the family. She married my Grandfather and they had 5 children, whom she raised into wonderful, strong willed, smart and educated adults. My grandfather had several bouts of cancer (lung and prostate) and she spent much of the end of his life caring for him as well as providing support for her 5 adult children and their families. After my grandfather passed away 9 years ago she became the one everyone looked after. It must be hard to shift to that position. We corresponded quite a bit. I love letter writing and she was always good to write back. We mostly wrote about what we were doing, but underneath the chit chat of everyday life and little adventures there was always the tone that she was so very proud of me. I always felt like one of her favorites, but I am pretty sure that everyone of my cousins and siblings felt the same thing. She was like that. Her love for us was unmeasurable and infinite. My middle name is her first. That is why I use the middle initial when I do theatre and writing work. It is in homage to her and always has been. She may be gone from this world, but she will always be with me. As I have in the past, I will continue to make decisions factoring in 'what would Grandma think?' I will miss her.

Keener...

Today was my first class! Hurray! We played Yes Let's and it felt a little weird to be playing as opposed to running the game! I like the atmosphere in the room and I am not the only 'older than 18' person in there, thank goodness. I have already completed my first journal entry. I think it was thoughtful and reflective and I feel like a keener. Cool.

On Saturday Mark and I will be going to Olds for the funeral for Amber and Sarah Olsen. I expect it will break my heart, but my Mom volunteered to take the boys for the day so that we could go. I really didn't want them to come since Oliver gets quite emotional and you can't predict it. I don't think there is anything to say or do for Dave and Shauna, except be there.

A Watery Grave

When we did Steel Magnolias at Walterdale Playhouse in the fall, our lovely director gave all of us a fish as a show gift. I knew that some of the fish passed away since then, but I had been spared. That is, until this afternoon, when I noticed Fighter (re-named by my eldest son, who wasn't fond of Rhett for a name) was awfully quiet and hugging the bottom of the tank. I looked closer and discovered he was not just napping. I will deal with his funeral after the boys go to bed and I am not sure if I will "replace" him. I think I might because I enjoyed having him around. He was the only boy in the house who knew how to be quiet and not make a mess.