December 18, 2002 - 10:26 p.m.
I'm beat. We drove to Falmouth and back today with visits to Aunt Myrtle, Granddaddy, and Ukrops inbetween. Aunt Myrtle is doing rather well. She was in a good mood this afternoon, though I have never seen her otherwise. She held Marcus, who was quite comfortable in her lap, and let Zachary play with her collection of turtles that friends and relatives have given her over the years (hazards of being named "Myrtle"). She's determined to live to 100 and I hope she does, provided the next 3 years are like today.
My grandfather, on the other hand ... Granddaddy has gone into a steep decline since he fell and cracked his hip last month. Confined to his bed or chair to heal, I think he is forgetting how to walk. He's rapidly losing any clarity in his speech and I'm not entirely certain he knew who I or the boys were. This is the beginning of the conclusion that I believed I was prepared for, that I had intellectualized but not really imagined. I've seen others in the home in the final months of Alzheimer's and Granddaddy is beginning to look as they did. I don't like looking ahead right now. To be blunt: it sucks.
Tomorrow I get to resume Christmas shopping because, even though the last of the gifts I ordered to give others have arrived in the mail, Mike has not yet begun to shop and I need to go out and pick up a few things - including what he's going to give me. At least I'll get exactly what I want, although it's too late to order a signed, first edition of Umberto Eco's new novel. :(
And, to jump on the bandwagon, several others have been posting their favorite carols, so here's mine:
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.
Born a king on Bethlehem's plain,
Gold I bring to crown Him again,
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign.
Frankincense to offer have I.
Incense owns a Deity nigh.
Prayer and praising all men raising,
Worship Him, God on high.
Myrrh is mine: Its bitter perfume
Breaths a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Sounds through the earth and skies.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.
