So while driving up to the country Saturday morning, I was mentioning to Gordie (who's place we're going to visit) that my family used to vacation in that area. And that most of the roads we were travelling, I was very accustomed to some 20 years ago. That my being there again was like a prolonged and wonderful deja-vue.
Then it hits me.
And I tell him that the last time I had driven that exact road we were on, was the day before my father died in 1990. I told him of the conversation I had with Glen (cousin), assuring him that there'd be something to do in the city if he came back with us.
My two primary role models and favorite people in the world, the most positive people I have ever met, were my father and my grandmother, and my heart soared in a bitter-sweet sort of way, and I thought to myself that I wouldn't be surprised if she died during the weekend. It turns out that she did. Sunday morning at 05:15.
Thank you everyone for your thoughts, comments and prayers.