It's that time of the season

My Gram is now the last member of her generation. 97 and still kicking it, she has begun to feel her age. Being the last of a generation must feel a little odd, daunting...surreal...mortal...ominous. Something I can't begin to imagine.

As a little girl it seemed like there was a l-o-o-o-ng line of Schaffers/Schafers to go through, and that I would never be 'that old', you know? Now, I am in that place where I remember Gram (age-wise) in my mind's eye, and my mother was my son's age - more or less - and my brothers and I were young. She seemed terribly old to me then, my grandnother, but that was life. Youth goggles I will call it; like 'beer goggles,' but healthier for you.

As we've all aged, I have become evermore conscious of myself becoming the elder one and closer to 90. Is it like this for everyone?

Uncle Joe passed away in his sleep Wednesday morning, quietly...peacefully (one day short of the day my grandad passed away in 1991). His family has been gathering since last weekend, saying their goodbyes and putting him in the right frame of mind for going. His wife of 70+ years went ahead of him in November. Mabel was also in her 90's, but before she passed away the two of them would drive around visiting relatives and friends as though they were 70-something!

Funny, but unless I look at photographs, I don't remember Joe and Mabel looking any different than the time I saw them at a family reunion 15 years ago. I have seen them since, of course, but they still looked the same.

Youth goggles.

This has got to be disheartening for Gram and I wonder how this will effect her, ultimately. Uncle Paul took her to see Joe on Saturday to say her goodbyes; I wonder if they spoke of Grandpa at all. Joe and Gramp were brothers, and I seem to recollect them always smiling or laughing when they would get together and chew the fat. There were many visits to 1109 when so many of the eldest generation was there, that a huge collection of wandering, Euchre-playing Schaffers seemed like the most natural thing in the world, but I always felt lost unless my cousins were there, too.

Over the last two decades the remaining brothers of both Gram and Gramp have dwindled quickly, but since I never really knew them as well as my own aunts and uncles, I didn't quite feel it like I am with this one death.

Odd.

Rest in peace, Uncle Joe, and give Aunt Mabel a squeeze for me. Tell Gramp I miss him dearly.