TeamReedBlog.2020

I started this blog as a weekly email to my mother-in law, so her Portland, Maine, residency would not keep her from keeping up with her granddaughter.  Marian adored getting the weekly photos of the rapidly growing redhead. She kept photos on rotation on her laptop and never failed to tell the latest story to whoever would listen.  We always knew Gary - Jeff, Jennifer and James' dad and Alison's grandpa -  liked the missives, too. But it wasn't until his passing that I realized he was as gabby about her and the rest of his family as she was. We said goodbye to Gary last week. Not the final goodbye, because that will come later when Jennifer and Peter, James and David, Jeff, Ali and I go back to Turks and Caicos to scatter a portion of his ashes in the place where he was the happiest (next perhaps to the horse track) after Marian's passing. Jeff gave a eulogy that any father would be proud to receive.  Together with other family members and many friends, we laughed. We

A year ago, my sister, Donna, called. She was in tears. Which, if you know Donna, is a big-assed deal.  She had taken my sister, Diane (they are Nos. 1 and 2 in the hierarchy of my childhood) to the doctor. A self-described hypochondriac, Diane hadn't been feeling well for a while. It had gotten to the point where she stopped diagnosing herself and actually asked for professional help. Which, if you know Diana, is a big-assed deal.  After a short time in a doctor's office, she was routed to emergency surgery. The prognosis was terminal. Cancer. Ignored too long to fix. Once we heard, my sisters and a good portion of our nieces, gathered in the parking lot of Union Hospital. It was deep into COVID and only Donna could go inside. It was cold. But we were together, even if separated by by some brick and mortar. Yesterday, we celebrated a year of still having Diane with us. She's not running marathons or dancing on tables, but then again, she'd never run a marathon or dance