So L's grandmother just died last night.

She was fairly old (90+), and had very poor eyesight, so for the first few times we met, her epithet for me was the guy in the striped shirt.

For me it is not so bad, I didn't know her long or well, but in fact I saw her more often than my own grandmother who died the summer before our wedding. I also cannot relate as much to L's grief for the same reason; my family simply isn't as close as hers. Most of my grief was regret that I knew my own grandmother so little, and failed so often to call, write, or think about her. I never visited her, even when I was old enough to do so on my own. Probably it never occurred to me since this is just not how my family operates, and I was already doing a good amount of travelling even to see my parents and brother, never mind anyone else.

The wake is Sunday, the funereal on Monday. We'll probably go see her parents this weekend then accompany them for the rest.

Perhaps I will miss my first night of class on Monday. I am sure the prof won't care.

My job was immediately sympathetic and accommodating - for some reason this still surprises me a bit when people do the right thing about such life changes.