And it’s a day that was planned to be a celebration.
My dad’s brother turned 90 earlier this year. His daughter (my cousin) figured that having a party in the Southern Arizona desert in July - his actual birthday - wasn’t a great idea. She planned it for this weekend. It’s a big party, with something like 50 or more coming, including lots of family and friends.
So travel plans were made and catering set up and all of the other things that accompany proper party-making.
On Tuesday we get a call from my cousin that her dad has been in the hospital for a couple of days and has moved to in-facility hospice. On Thursday, she calls again to let us know he passed away. She also asks everyone to still come and celebrate his life. Which we do. Party to be later today.
In the mean time, on my mothers side of the family, her sister’s son (yes, another cousin) calls this morning to let us know she passed away last night.
My parents have lost their last remaining siblings in two days.
They’re holding up well, all things considered. It’s been a rough couple of days.