The book is done. 217,000 words. 534 actual book pages. A year and a half of my life. And it is done.
Well, the rough draft, anyway.
And at the same time, my grandfather is, to put it bluntly, dying. He's at the end of his fight with lung, liver, and spinal cancer. He can no longer use his feet, there's a rattle in his breath, and his liver has shut down, sending toxins to his brain so that most of the time he doesn't know what's going on.
In October, when the diagnosis came down, he was a relatively robust 74, and still even had his full head of dark hair. Now he is this. It happened so fast.
He's at home. Hospice is helping my Mom take care of him. We're told he has between 2 days and 2 weeks left.
It's strange how things come together sometimes.