Well it’s been a while again. A few things going on that has kept me from my site. Real life has a way of getting in the way sometimes. On the 6th of December my Grandma passed away. It wasn’t something anyone would thought would happen. At least happen any time soon. But it did.

Me and Betty were not close. We didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. She could be really mean and at the same time be really funny. She was 79 and she didn’t act her age. This is the greatest compliment I can give her.

Because she didn’t act like an old person. She went out and did things and didn’t wait around for death to take her. I saw her last on the 4th and me and my Mom and her had a few beers after an ABWA meeting she was a part of. The next day she went in for some procedures.

The rest is, as they say history. I’ve talked about death before. And as in the past here is how the Bard put it:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d.

To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

My man Bill makes more sense to me than any bible quote. The “To be or not to be” passage explains how I feel about the subject of death.