In 1944, my dad and three of his brothers became fathers to new baby daughters: My dad, Everett, sired me; Uncle Orville was father to Lela May; Uncle Cecil had Frances; and Uncle Clifford's baby girl was Alice. There are many family pictures of the four of us, the 1944 baby girls, seated on a blanket together. And in later years, of all of us standing together.
We've watched our daddies die; and two of us have seen our mommies go.
Sometimes things happen to make me realize that our turn isn't so far away.
I got a Christmas letter from my cousin Alice, saying she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and is now going through chemo. Her husband had five stints put in during the past year.
Cliff, my husband, has had a quad-bypass.
My blood pressure, which was always on the low side, is rising.
It's our turn to start shuffling off this mortal coil.
I can't believe how fast the time goes.