As I write this, my husband is at a hospice facility with his family as they await the inevitable death of his grandfather. It is Christmas Eve and the death of the patriarch has been long coming and yet it’s terribly sad. A second father to all of his grandchildren when they were growing up, Josh’s grandpa will be greatly missed by his enormous family. We spent two hours at the hospital yesterday sorrounded by strange smells, deathly ill patients, and the odd sounds of the oxygen machine. It was strange to pass by the birthing center as we made our way through the building, a little reminder of birth and death, all the woo-woo stuff you start thinking when confronted with mortality. While I wrap our presents alone and wait for the fatefull hour to cue the funeral planning, I cling to Christmas and my own family. When we packed for our Portland trip, we packed clothes for a funeral and clothes for a wedding–Josh’s youngest cousin is marrying on Thursday. Such a strange moment upon realizing that one cannot double the outfits, clothing for a wedding is not suitable for a funeral, right? We asked ourselves this as we packed, late into the night. Early Friday evening when we returned at 10:30pm from a play, Josh and I discovered our Costco size laundry soap jug had tipped over and released its entire contents on the laundry room floor. While I cleaned up the sweet smelling mess, Josh learned from his Mom that we were needed right away, despite feeling so unready for everything: Christmas, travel, and of course the inevitable death of his grandfather.