My Great Aunt Jane passed away recently. My Dad's Father, who is my last living Grandparent and is currently using my Dad's basement as an apartment, was her older brother by a few years. He's now in his nineties, but still pretty coherent, healthy and well-functioning. I know this will be difficult for him, but my Great Aunt has been mentally
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Being thirty isn't bad - beats the hell out of fifty!
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The thoughts never go away, but somehow they get a little easier to live with ... most of the time, anyway. This sounds more depressing and fatalistic than it is, but over time we come to accept the brevity and the unfairness of life.
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