But seriously, for a moment.

It's a bad sign when the 7am Sunday morning call from Mom is "just" that her brother passed away last night. Not to be callous - he was a great man, my favorite uncle perhaps, but his wife passed away last summer and they were that type of couple that it was really just a matter of time before he joined her.

It's just that I was sure this time, that it would be about my dad. I'm dreading that call immensely.

I'm also dreading any decisions I will need to make related to that. Deciding to put Her Majesty down last week was a pretty intense experience. Having the power to decide whether something lived or died, not being certain I was making the right call despite all the falling down and not eating and pathetic whiny mews, wishing she could speak actual words and let me know it was OK, that it was time. Watching her go was surreal. It happened so fast, and I felt helpless and relieved and sad and regretful all at once.

Having to do that with a person? I think I would throw up. But would that be worse than finding a parent who had passed, as my uncle's daughter did this morning?

When the time comes I'm sure I will deal with it however necessary, and worrying about it now isn't going to make it any easier. For now, I'll just worry about how to pay for the ticket back east. Eighteen months is too long to go without seeing your family.