Stewing and some thoughts

I am sitting here stewing over something, maybe trivial, maybe not. My mom was prevented from calling my great uncle to give him the bad news because she is not a blood relative (and I quote, "someone within the family should tell him"). Just a quick poll for whoever is reading this, if you had to receive bad news, would you rather hear it from someone you go out to lunch with once a week, or a blood relative you haven't seen in 30 years? I should have saved them all the trouble and stopped at his house to tell him myself before even getting to the hospital.

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He looked good. I hope I look that good when I am dead.

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When everyone was going to the hospital but no one knew what was wrong, I thought "At his age, you don't get rushed to the hospital unless its a heart attack or a stroke." I hoped it was a heart attack because a stroke is worse for morale. At least with a heart attack you can have cute puns like "Our hospital is number one in mending broken hearts." It was a heart attack, and if I could choose a way to die, it would be the way he did: unexpectedly, but with enough time to be surrounded by loved ones, listening to Big Band music. The only thing missing was his Gibson martini, which the hospital did not allow to be added to his morphine drip.

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Alternatively, flying a biplane upside down through a barn would also be a good way to go out.

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Just a thought as I peruse my life at the moment. If you don't know what your loved ones believe about the afterlife, have that discussion with them now. It is totally insensitive to bring it up on their deathbeds or try to sway them to your own beliefs.

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To live long enough to see your grandchildren born, that is a great goal. To live long enough to enjoy your retirement, that is a great blessing. To live long enough to enjoy 27 years of retirement with a full set of teeth and hair that is not as gray as your sons' and die looking just as good as you did at 25, that is a great miracle.