Yet another laborious journey south to accomplish great things has proved utterly fruitless. What was supposed to an opportunity to expunge the in-law’s home of extraneous artifacts and distribute family treasures, has evolved into an extended stay in the hospital waiting room.

Hours were wasted in committee meetings, pacing and sighing. Little accomplished aside from pissing off all the wives who were expected to abandon their personal pursuits in lieu of sitting in a circle to watch grown men think. Eventually, the thinking and pile making was interrupted by a medical emergency and an SUV convey was dispatched to the hospital, complete with passing on the right, and excessive speeding.

The inertia which has plagued my in-law’s lives, also plagues their deaths. Rather than bore you with extraneous medical details, I’ll abbreviate. We are at the hospital waiting for my father-in-law to die. This waiting, waffling, and pacing, is excruciating, just like one would expect it to be. The things which are uncontrollable are many, and the things over which we have influence are few, but still require extensive arbitration. If this is a democracy, then why does the weight of one man’s vote count more than the other three?

I detest the hospital clusterfuck. I don’t judge the mourning or coping technique of the others. We all function differently. Under the circumstances, I am impressed that most are functioning at all. The deterioration of his health in the past month is sobering. I hurt for nieces who are experiencing the loss for the first time. I hurt for my husband, who can’t comprehend how quickly time slips through our fingertips, and the importance of not taking presence for granted. I hurt for the Mister’s brother’s who are stumbling over themselves with great efforts to accomplish little, and I hate the idea that my FIL could be suffering.

I’ve contemplated the situation long enough achieve a form of closure. I am the lucky one…except for the self-awareness as I wait for the others to catch up with me.