Not Sims-related in the least. Just me in the middle of a rage. As the two or three of you who check out this blog regularly know, I lost my Dad last September when the Crab came back for a second assault. It was officially a heart attack that took him but he'd stopped eating and was coughing a lot. The autopsy confirmed the presence of cancer in his liver and lungs. I know that cancer can come back more than once and that one is never truly safe and/or cured until they die of something completely unrelated to it. This was shocking and terrible, but not a total surprise.
The Crab took away Alan Rickman, David Bowie, and many other wonderful people last year. I'm hoping it's just that it's been reported and announced more these days - otherwise it might seem like the number of cancer-related deaths is rising. There was a time when cancer was a dirty little secret and kept buried away in the family skeleton closet. Now there are more people surviving it because it's caught early enough for treatments to work. I'm still working through my feelings as far as Dad's passing goes. He's not here with us and he should be. It's called saudade from the Portuguese language (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade) and I'm neck-deep in it.
Why am I yammering about this now? My grandma died from cancer as well - pancreatic; what took Bowie and Rickman away so quickly - and hearing about anyone dying from it saddens and angers me just a bit. It was seeing the following news that just caused me to explode a bit.
I love the 'Vinyl Cafe' books and admired Stuart McLean to no end. Losing him at the age of 68 hurts. As a result, I am sad and angry once again and just getting my rage on in here. Rest in Peace, honoured man. You shall never be forgotten in the Canadian heartlands and small towns. You shall be treasured and your books praised for many years to come.
Okay. I am going to close this up before I need to break out the Kleenex.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
In the bedroom she tried to explain herself. He put up a hand, his voice cold with anger. "Not a word. You've done enough."
"Mama? We go in now?"
"Not yet, angel. We'll take another turn around the block."
"Dada mad, Mama."
"I know, angel. Dada will be mad for a while."
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