I probably should have kept my head down.
Swee'pea dropped a pot lid on his foot, shortly before we had to go to the doctor's for his 18-month shots. He cried and kicked his foot and I felt utterly powerless. He'd settle down, then cry some more and look accusingly at his foot. It seems better now.
Got home from the doctor's just in time to get bad news from South Africa. Sugar D's Uncle R died this morning, suddenly. He was the one I grumped about smoking in the house with Swee'pea and who got held up multiple times in Mozambique, the youngest brother who lived with Sugar D's granny. He was 58. I never imagined that this past January would be the last time we would see him.
I'm really quite sad about his passing, and for the changes in Granny's life his loss will bring. She has now outlived two of her four children, a fact I cannot comprehend or contemplate. Luckily, there is still one brother in Cape Town who will care for her.
It strikes me that Uncle R was a risk-taker who lived a wild and, at times, fast life. I suppose it is fitting that he died the same way, as shocking as it may be for the rest of us. I was so pleased when he gave us his pencil drawing of a shack in Khayalitcha before we left, and of course now it just means so much more.
Weekend Reading: The Trying to Rally Edition
2 days ago