But that meant his schedule was supertight, and he could only make a quick half-day trip down here for Christmas, and only yesterday on the 21st. It's been three or four years since he'd seen Grandma Shirley, my mother, but my brother Denny was gracious enough to drive Mom on short notice all the way from where's she's been living with his family near the eastern edge of Mesa. (Or, as we call it way the heck over here in Glendale, "The Far Side of the Universe", about a 50-mile trip.)
My mother's 85, with a variety of health issues. None critical right now, but... she's 85. So it's probably a good thing to take advantage of any opportunity for her and Chris to see each other. There's no reason to think this will be her last Christmas, but... she's 85.
This is one of the drawbacks of geting older: You have to start taking into consideration the question, "If I don't do this now, will I have an opportunity to do it later?"
The accident that broke my arm certainly contributed to this morbid line of thought. I've always known, intellectually, that I'll die someday. But being hurt so badly, and so suddenly and unexpectedly, has really impressed on me, in a deep visceral sense, that I won't be here someday. The thought struck me while Chris and Mom were here that someday there'll be a Christmas that will be my last Christmas. (Though I certainly hope my timing will be better than my Dad's, who actually died on Christmas Day, 1980.)
This is not an easy concept to grasp, when it's one you've been trying to avoid all your life. I'm not sure where this mental processing will end up, or whether going thru the process is the point. We'll see.
This lovely graphic apparently comes from
a Moldavian animation company,
possibly as part of a commercial.
(What were they advertising?)
That's all I've been able to find out about it,
tho' I'd love to see the full animation someday.