Actually, the reality of this mornings phone call has not set in yet. We've only had phone service back for a week, internet a little less. And what news and what comfort it brings at the same time.
I received 2 phone calls early this morning. I should have been up and out of bed already, but since Justin was going to drive my sister and I into work, I was cheating and staying in bed a few extra minutes. It was my Mother telling me that my oldest brother had had a minor heart attack an was on his way into surgery for a blockage. I didn't think much of it, 'minor' heartattack...blockage...no big deal...they fix this stuff all the time...Uncle Bob had one and was ok. But maybe 5 minutes later, she called again...this time to say that he hadn't made it.
The reality has not hit me yet. I feel the shock and the sorrow...but thre is a tiny corner of my mind that is protesting. This can't be real. Icky can't really be dead. (His name was Glen Richard but his knickname was Icky for some reason I've never known) He was too young...maybe 54 or 55...the first three kids were so close in age, I'm never sure. Was. Apparently part of me has accepted the reality. My first instinct was just like those I've read in the 'In Death' series...'No, it's no true. I'll call him and ask him what the heck is going on.' I always had trouble believing the reality of those written reactions. But now I know the truth of them.
I've lost my brother. I have five. Even death does not change that. His sons, my nephews, have lost their father. He was also a grandfather. He liked to drink coffee...like water!
It's a crappy way to start the week.