So My Dad Dies -- and Then it Gets Worse!

I wasn't going to write about this in exactly this way, but it's gotten so bizarre that I feel like venting just a little. I beg your indulgence.

So Friday night I get a call that my father (age 72) had died suddenly in his home. Of course I'm shocked and sad, but he had (and his family has*) a history of congestive heart failure. We all knew HOW he was going to go (quick), we just didn't figure it would be quite so soon.

*for once, I'm glad to say I'm adopted.

Okay, that's bad, but my family is pretty good at dealing with this sort of thing, so we are going through that process now.

Here's the kicker: a couple of days before, my father-in-law (whom I and everyone else who's ever met him absolutely adore) takes a fall and breaks some ribs. He has Parkinson's, so this is NOT going to be something that's easy to heal up from.

When he goes to the hospital, we discover he had pneumonia (which is probably what caused him to fall in the first place).

Yesterday -- the day after my own father dies -- dad-in-law's pneumonia takes a sharp turn for the worse. The antibiotics aren't working, it's difficult (and incredibly painful) for him to breathe. The prognosis is (to be blunt) not good.

I'm writing this because I'm taking a breather from (literally) moving from one side of town to the other, working with my family to get my dad buried and then off to the hospital to watch a beloved relative literally fight for his life. To call this "stressful" would be like calling the war in Iraq "a bit messy."

I'm afraid I'm not the sort to ask for prayers or vibes, but if by chance any of you out there are:

a) super-powerful aliens with amazing mind-control powers,
b) deities in disguise with world-changing abilities, or
c) mere ordinary mortals who are nonetheless convinced your best wishes would help,

don't let me stop you.

PS. I hope none of you -- even the ones I don't get on well with -- ever have a week like I'm having.