Marquette in January

My mother called last night to inform me that it’s definitely not looking good for Grandma and that we really ought to go back and “say goodbye” before she passes. I agree. So I’m looking at which flights to book. I’d much rather go back and spend a few days with her now than attend her funeral. It sounds so practical and calculated, but really when you think about someone you love passing on would you rather spend a last few moments with them alive or looking at their grave?

I’m doing OK. No tears have really fallen yet which surprises me. All the crying I’m doing is for all those people whose lives have been decimated by the tsunami.

I’m sort of just staying focused on the travel plans and how I’m going to afford everything. Fortunately I’ve got one credit card that has a shit load of room on it because they keep raising the limit, but I’m not looking forward to putting anything on and then paying it off. Though flights are actually surprisingly reasonable considering. It’s the affording the time off work and my boss has been an unparalleled asshole the last few days. But some things are much more important than work and this is one of them. He’s going to have a shit fit and while I *will* go ahead and take this time it’s going to be the resulting attitude and extra work over the next few months that will suck.

Also, instead of thinking about the heart of the situation I’m thinking about, “what am I going to wear?” On a whim I’d bought a wool coat a few weeks ago because it was a pretty green I love and dirt cheap, now I know that I’ll actually wear it someplace. And for some reason I’d also picked up some cozy wool sequined fishermen’s gloves. It’s like I knew this was coming and I suppose I did. Yeah, I did. I just thought it would be further off. Not next week. And now I just have to gather some tights, some shoes that have closed toes and heels, and dust off the cashmere sweaters. I’ll find some way to dress in 20 degree weather.

My uncle is trying to convince my Grandma to go down to Traverse City to his house so she’d have people around to take care of her, plus she has a doctor down there. I’m hoping they get her down because it’s a million times easier to fly into Traverse than Marquette (an 8 hour trip with a visit to O’Hare) not to mention considerably cheaper and possibly not as cold.

Look at me worrying about my convenience.

I think I seem kind of heartless.

I also feel my last and only connection to Michigan is going to be gone. My aunt screwed me out of the summer place on the island, my dad has broken all connections, and now with Grandma gone from there it’s like it’s all gone. That part of my life. Another part of my life that’s gone on top of all the others. But that is life? Isn’t it? Maybe I just don’t deal with change that well. They say, “You can’t go home again” for a damn good reason. (“But you can shop there” – favorite line from one of my favorite movies, which just happens to take place in Michigan.)

And it’s not like I just had my whole world torn away from me by a giant wave…

Maybe I should buy a pair of boots. And I need to remember my pash-fake-mina in my bag for when it’s cold. And just how drunk can I get at O’Hare and still be allowed on my connector?

Damn. I just read that Jerry Orbach died. What the fuck? Does it ever end?