uncertainty.

I just saw my grandpa again. He's lost a lot of weight. I used to think he was on the road to some sort of a recovery, but I think he's gotten worse. Still, there's nothing I could do but keep a smile on my face. I think he's realized for himself that time is running short. He seems happier now, I don't know if it's because his sister came over to visit, or perhaps he's learning to appreciate everything again. So although he's now thinner than me, and his bones are protruding somewhat unnaturally, I'm happy that he's learning to smile and enjoy himself again. No longer does he raise his voice, he just watches and takes everything in, with a grin of pride as he sees his children and grandchildren together, having another Saturday lunch. Still, the moment is a bit bittersweet... how many more Saturdays will there be? No one can say.

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I used to think uncertainty was a wonderful thing. Now, I say, screw it. I have a wonderful life, I do, but right now, I wish I weren't me.