First my grandpa went in for a routine appointment and was checked in and scheduled for surgery for an infection in his hip (so the surprise birthday party had to be cancelled). Then my other little grandma broke her hip and landed back in the hospital, also awaiting Monday surgery.

Grandpa had a stroke Tuesday (Grandma's birthday) and died Wednesday afternoon. The other grandma's recovering well.

My dad was in Denver; he rented a car and made the long drive home by himself.

I was at work; when an update didn't arrive in a reasonable time, I called and found my suspicions confirmed. Mom called the siblings' husbands and my JB, not wanting to upset us at work, but I just knew.

Though he'd been ill for years, it took us entirely by surprise. I guess you can't ever really be ready.

And being a grownup means now I have to do things like pick out funereal garb to bring to the parents and watch my father sob and stand in a visitation line for hours, accepting kind words from strangers. You can't be ready for that, either.

But yet it was beautiful, the outpouring of kind words and food and plants and love from friends and family. It was precious indeed to see my cousin drive Grandpa's old John Deere 60 from his house to the country cemetery for graveside services.

All that time with family isn't easy under normal circumstances, but considering all the emotion and drama, we did fairly well. And now that I'm home, I miss them. And him.