My stepmother just called and said she thinks he'll die tonight -- that he's having trouble breathing -- and that *his* father went into a coma today. It's not a stroke, but they don't know what. Dad's 74 and Gramps is 94 (also with a DNR). I emailed my cousins to find out more, since they're closer.
I haven't seen Gramps in years, but I'll be sad when he's gone. I'm feeling pretty conflicted about Dad. He hurt me physically and emotionally every day I lived with him and emotionally every time I saw him. He repeatedly told me how worthless I was, even up to the last time he called last year. (Girls are worthless -- I was also stupid, ugly, and nobody would ever love me. Women without husbands and babies are particularly worthless.) On the other hand, I've spent the last 21 years expecting to die before he did, so I never really thought about knowing he'd died. There are still some small good memories there, and I disagree with Patrick, even William F. Buckley's death decreases me, so my father's will, too. But I'm more angry right now than sad. I kept waiting for him to change, to think I was a worthwhile person and valuable, and now it looks like he won't.
I told Rick about Giorgio last night and cried about the cat in bed, so, come to think of it, that's probably why I'm off today. Maybe it'll be a few more days of off.