Goose.

I'm not sure where it all started. In fact, my brother doesn't remember either but for as long as we can remember, we have called grandma, "Goose." Growing up our mother worked two jobs leaving us to spend a lot of time with Goose. She picked us up from school, she cooked us dinner with Nesquick, and when we'd misbehave hearing our mother say, "What would Goose think of you right now?" was always a sure way to shape us up. I've always said that her passing will be harder for my brother and I than losing one of our parents. Last night mom called to say Goose had been rushed to the ER, unaware of what had happened and still unsure of why she is in there, it has made me start to think, as morbid as it is, about death. In February she will be 90 and I know with her recent rapid health failure it's something I can't deny. She fell when I was in Spain in March and things have gone downhill fast. It's hard when the person you see is no longer the person you know. Although I view death completely different now being a member, I pray that this time will be easy.