July 30, 2000 -- 10:27 PM EST

Mom called me up to tell me her great uncle fell, and a check-up showed spinal column injuries. He's also shot through with cancer throughout his whole body, and at 91, there's not much anyone can do. None of his kids have told him about that part -- so he just thinks the new pain is from the fall.

Needless to say, everyone is depressed. Including me.

I have very dim memories of him because we saw him only every once in a while. My sister and I weren't his grandchildren -- they saw him more.

I do remember all us little kids thought he was the coolest person we knew because he was a bee keeper. We weren't allowed to go to the side of the house where all the bee boxes were, but every once in a while if my mom was going to see him and he was in there, we'd go into the screened area and he'd be taking off him bee suit and I'd get to peek at the wooden stands and hear that delicious, scary, dangerous sounding buzzing.

He usually gave my mom a chunk of honeycomb in a jar with fresh honey on those visits and I remember how buttery rich that honey was compared to store honey. If they were going to be visiting in there a while, they'd shoo me out of the bee house into the side courtyard and I'd play by myself while watchign them visit in the little greenhouse looking side area while he tended to his bee needs. They had a carambola tree in the courtayard and if they were ripe he'd pick them for me and I'd eat them.

If you slice carambola sideways it makes stars.

It's funny that in childhood you ascribe these feelings or thoughts about a person and even though you grow up, those childhood feelings persist. So my mom's great uncle is about bees, honey and start fruit. His wife died when I was very young, so all I remember about her was having to be quiet and medicine smells.

My father's mother, my grandmother Sarah, was about mischief and games and my adoring ally, terribly indulgent and always full of fun. She'd scare us with her dentures or she'd scare us with her stories. How appropriate that she was born on Halloween!

My paternal grandfather was remote and smelled of tobacco and was full of piss and vinegar so everyone steered clear of him. I remember serving him pretend tea and him looking at me like he didn't know what to do about it. I received a gruff pat on the head and a shake of his Sunday newspaper and I sought my grandmother instead. Papa Rigby wasn't much for kids.

My maternal grandparents I never could speak to because they didn't speak English and I didn't speak Chinese. But Popo was about gentile remoteness and smelled of funny soap. She'd look after us but shake her head and laugh if we tried to play with her. Goong-goong was about a loud booming voice, a fierce temper and a penchant for little kids. He always had something good in his pockets and he reminded me of a bear. Cuddly if he felt like being cuddly but terrifying if he wanted to be. I'm glad he never yelled at me. I watched him yell at my cousins and that was scary enough!

I don't know if my mother still goes to church to honor the dead on the days of their funerals. She called today to tell me she remembered both my grandfathers died right before their birthdays and that Tio Federico's birthday is next month and that she feels odd. If I have any trace of intuition it was inherited from my mother, so I'm going to believe her.

Mom: I talked to you Dad and he said not to be silly and to just call him up.

Me: You don't like it.

Mom: I know. I'm not good at pretending. I can't tell him to feel better because he won't, and I can't tell him the real reason he's sick, because nobody is telling him, so what do I say when he asks me why I am calling out of the blue?

My mom? I always think about how funny she is, how fiercely honest, and how much she loves to play games. She also likes having things done well, and that includes preparing for death. You pay your respects, preferably while the person is still alive! My Dad? He's like his mother -- loves to play pranks and is very amused by little kids, but he has his father's awkwardness so he doesn't related to adults very well.

I'm not quite ready to digest the thought of my parents dying, but we get there. Circles are shifting -- my parents' elders are completing their lives and my parents and their generation evolve into the new elders while my own stops being the kids as we bring forth our own children into the world.

That's how life goes, and that's how it should be. It's sane.

~Astrophe