...to see my sisters this weekend.

Maybe all three of them. Probably only two of them.

See, I was born in Florida in 1980. The house that I lived in as a child was, literally, around the corner from the house of my dad's mom and dad. Every tuesday and thursday for three years or so, I'd walk from my house to my grandmother's house and hang out with them for a few hours, and then go back home.

My older sister and I played all sorts of games, and played with all sorts of toys, sometimes with grandma and grandpa, sometimes without. Those are the happiest memories of my childhood.

In 1987, we moved from Florida to Texas. We visited every year, though, and those were fun.

In 1991, we moved from Texas to California. We still visited, though not as frequently.

In 1998, we moved from California to Georgia. This was mostly because of Dad's job, but it was providential because we got to live closer to grandma and grandpa who were getting along in years, but still doing really well (for people pushing 80)

In October of 2002, the woman who, for all intents and purposes was the Matriarch of the family (mom's mom's mom) had an aneurysm. A few weeks later she died.

On that same day, the man who, for all intents and purposes was the patriarch (dad's dad) had a massive heart attack (9 on a scale of 1-10). He started doing better, relapsed, died. That was November 23. The same weekend that <I>Die Another Day</I> came out. I remember that, because my Uncle and I went to go see it the evening of the day of the funeral. This becomes important later on.

Grandma lived by herself for a while, and then we all came to realization that she shouldn't be. None of us knew how long it had been going on, or if Grandpa had known about it, or even if it was his death that had helped hurry it along, but Grandma was going senile.

So, she moved in with mom and dad. For a while, things were okay, but, as is usual in these cases, things got worse, and they got worse quickly. Grandma got confused easily, forgot things. Most disturbing of all, she described events that hadn't happened.

One of them is chronicled in my Xanga <a href="http://www.xanga.com/RiftTraveler/486101416/a-frightening-and-depressing-experience.html">here</A>.

About two or three weeks ago, grandma grew lethargic, and wouldn't eat. Mom and dad took her to the hospital. I don't exactly remember what happened, but I think- don't hold me to it, but I think- she had, among other things, a blockage in her small intestine.

She also got her colon taken out.

She was in a nursing home for a couple of weeks, and then last friday, she came back home.

It was... I don't even know what the word is. Terrible and shocking, to see the changes wrought in her. She looked ten years older, which, when you're pushing mid-80's... you get the idea. She was confined to a wheelchair.

She didn't remember me. The look on her face wasn't even polite interest. It was just blank.

I went downstairs last night to go grab some food from a pizza joint, and I happened to see her sitting at the table eating. She had a spoon in her hand, and it was just... sitting there. She wasn't moving, and, though I could only see her from behind, I could see the weakness in her body.

That's an image that's going to stick with me for the rest of my life.

Cause it will, in all likelihood be the image that I'm going to call up when I think about the last time I saw my grandmother alive.

I came downstairs later that evening after a nap to a darkened house, and a note on the table that said they had taken grandma to the hospital again.

They got home around 3 30 in the morning. At 9 this morning, mom called.

As I said at the beginning of this post...

I think I'm going to get to see my sisters this weekend. Maybe all three of them, probably only two of them.

Cause my grandma's not expected to live through the day.

Please be in prayer. Thanks.

-Rifty