My 21st Birthday.

Well, it has been awhile since my last entry--but I'll blame it on the obscene computer problems I've been having lately. I'm on Spring Break, now, and I turned 21 on Friday, March 10th, but it really wasn't that great.

You see, my grandfather died this morning.

For all intents and purposes I should be in Las Vegas right now. My parents have been planning to take me to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday since, oh, I was seven. On Friday, however, my mother calls me to tell me that my grandfather's condition had worsened. He's been battling Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma for about nine years and I knew that this time he wouldn't win. I just didn't know it would be so soon. He went to the doctor's Friday to see if he would be able to return to Ohio. The doctor told my grandmother to call the family.

So my paternal family spent the weekend congregated at my grandparents' condo here in Sarasota, where they--and the rest of the American population older than 65--spend their winters. Yesterday my grandmother's brother an his wife, my uncle, my aunt and her family, and my family were all there. All of us. My grandfather was in and out--he was on morphine, and an oxygen tank, but he knew we were there. We celebrated my 21st birthday with Coldstone ice cream cakes and candles and, yes, singing. And though my grandfather had to look and listen from the adjacent room, I'm glad that the last thing he was able to celebrate was my birthday.

When I was little my grandparents were always in Sarasota for my birthday. When my grandmother's mother, my great grandma Dorothy, grew ill they had to stay in Ohio--and this devastated me. Recently, however, my grandparents have been able to share my birthdays with me. I'm glad I got one more with my grandfather.

The funeral is Tuesday. We fly to Ohio tomorrow. My aunt is being ridiculous and is making this ordeal much harder than it needs to be. But she always was Fran-centric, wasn't she? I don't know how my father doesn't hit her and I don't know how my grandmother stands it. But she does.

I don't know who reads this blog anymore. So I don't really know to whom I am writing. All I know is that I don't have any grandfathers left. After my Grandpa Robert died (on March 3rd in 2003, my family likes to die around my birthday I suppose) I went to my grandparents' condo and spent three hours talking to my Grandpa Merle. About what? I'm not sure. But we had a similar sense of humor. There was a period of time when I was very close to my grandfather. He was sharp. He was funny. He was a cranky old man but he was also a kind old man and when he died I didn't know who to go to--no more grandfathers, after all.

I'm just glad I had one more day with him. One more birthday. Vegas? It'll happen in May. And hopefully I'll win the jackpot with the gambling money he gave me for my birthday--I think it'd please him.

But for now it is off to Ohio to honor the grandfather I loved.