"Winter is Coming..."

How do you respond when someone asks how your family is doing?
I don't want to lie.
I don't want to be Debby Downer either.

"Henry's in Hospice."

The statement gets all kinds of responses. One, like today - is immediate understanding of the gravity and magnitude of the statement, an understanding of all the things that go along with the word - hospice.
This is from experience. I might see a flash of emotion, but gratefully they have learned to quell the sadness, at least until it's clear that I'm ready for it.

Another response is confusion. "Why? What's wrong with him? Will he pull through?"

Ugh... Hope has been a four letter word in our house for about four and a half years.
Just when we allow ourselves to look forward to something... hope is dashed against a stone along with our hearts.

I hate being the one to say. "No. His diagnosis is terminal."

Some folks don't understand how something like 'terminal diagnosis' could apply to such a little one.

<Noah gets irritated with me sometimes, because I am a bit of an optimist. He says, "You think that just because it's not the Holocaust - it's not bad."

I know it's bad. I know we're in the grip of transition that we don't want or approve of.
But that's life... a bunch of chaotic events that add up to our experience. Sometimes they make sense, but usually it's up to us to make sense of the mess... I won't even be trying to puzzle out this shit for a while!>

And then there's "Oh, I am so sorry. What can I do?" Followed by teary eyes and a hug. This is the most dangerous response. If I cry now... I may never stop.

Winter in Westeros is not measured by months. It's unpredictable... it can last years - it can last a week.

Our winter is on it's way, I already feel the frost. A week of snow is manageable, but I suspect we will be cold for a long time.