Pop’s not doing so well. Got the call that his vitals were all going downhill pretty quickly. Lisa and I both felt like we wanted to be here for mom and Dad, and for Pop. We took separate cars, to accommodate our adult schedules.

Driving down this afternoon was strange. I cried in my car on the highway, driving 80 mph listening to Guns N’ Roses version of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” and coming up on a wall of thunderstorm seen from a distance. I could see curtains of rain coming down from the sky, with light shining through too, in that weird way that happens with storms, all green and grey and silver and purple. Some moments the heavens just seem closer.

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