I hate getting calls from Mom as soon as I get home from work.
This afternoon, I got a call from her, and after some trivialities, she dropped the bomb on me. Roaul, my uncle and whom I’m named after, is reported to be gravely ill.
Now, there’s some possibility that this news is inaccurate — Mom and/or Kevio are going to Oak Ridge on Wednesday to visit and form their own opinion.
This is far too reminiscent of Dad’s time in August ’02, and I’m just afraid that the cards are laying down the same way.
He’s the last one of Dad’s sibs left, and when they’re all gone, an entirely too interesting chapter in my world will have closed.