My grandpa is in really poor condition. The doctors are saying he's got an indeterminant number of hours left to live. We went to see him at the hospital, and he's breathing through a breathing machine, eating through a feeding tube, he can't talk, and he can barely move. But he can look at you, and when you look in his eyes, it's still my grandpa.
My brain's doing a pretty good job of blocking out the fact that this is actually happening. I've been sort of numb to any thoughts of him actually dying. I know that it will happen soon. And I've kind of been expecting it for a while now, ever since we last visited. But that doesn't mean it will be any easier when it actually happens.
On a far, far more selfish note, which I feel bad even being upset about but I can't help it: If we have to stay up here too long, I won't get to go to How the Edge Stole Christmas. Featuring Korn. The band I've missed seeing three times due to lack of having a ticket, and I swore to myself the next time they were in town I would see them no matter what, and I've got the ticket sitting in my apartment at home...aslkdjflskjflsdkjfdls. I feel horrible worrying about that, but there it is. I really want to go see a stupid concert. Oh, well.