Sappy today

It seems my grandma didn't expect to return home. Yesterday, when going through some things, my grandpa found an insurance policy that my grandma had taken out on herself, in 1962 (she would have been 30 then). My grandpa knew NOTHING about this, and was shocked to discover it. Knowing my grandma, she would never have left this so readily available, had she not intended for him to find it. She knew she was going to die. It breaks my heart, over and over. I think about her all the time. I keep seeing her turn towards my voice, trying to open her eyes. I keep hearing my grandpa talking to her in those last minutes they had together.

As I've put pieces together over the years, I've realized that she was most likely clinically depressed for most of her life. She'd been on and off (mostly off) anti-depressants for many years. She was hospitalized last fall after a heart attack, and must have started taking something again. I could tell a difference almost immediately. That time also corresponded to the twins being born, so I have no doubt that their birth was part of her depression lifting.

Here they are, at my mother in laws memorial service last fall, holding McBabies:) 

Combine my sadness over her, with the thought that today is Sophie's last day at her daycare, and I'm sort of a mess. I know this is normal. It's a part of life that she'll just have to get used to, "not everything lasts forever" blah, blah, but I hate it for her. I know that this time next year I'll be prepping her for pre-school, but I hate to cause her any sort of discomfort. Like her dad, she is very much a creature of habit, and if something gets disturbed she feels it.

I've been preparing her that Monday she'll start going to "Miss Ann's" house, which is the new daycare. I keep reminding her that Miss Ann has the really neat playground. She seems to understand this, but at times will say "no, go to Stacey's." The new center is literally a mile south of her current sitter, but I'm going to alter my route on Monday, so she doesn't get confused. 

Plus, of course, there's the issue of WHY we are going to a new sitter. Stacey's husbands brain surgery is on Monday, so I'm thinking about her, and him, and all the possibilities that might be.