Death by proximity

Grandma is getting old. Scratch that - Grandma was born old. But she's getting even older, to the point where her continued status of "living" defies medical explanation. The normal person's aorta is 3-4 cm in diameter. Grandma's is point-six. I rest my case.

Mom and Doug (dad) are going away on a month-long RV trip on Labor Day. I'm really excited for them. They always have a great time, despite the understandable nerves over a monthlong uprooting.

This year, I'm a bit nervous that they're leaving. Given Grandma's medical state, plus observable decline in the past month, chances are more than negligible that she'll kick it while they're gone.

Oddly enough, that possibility is not what's bothering me about them leaving. My parents are getting older, too. With them gone a whole month and Grandma with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, I'm being forced to glimpse reality:

Someday, I will have to live without my parents.

They're my emotional support, my peanut gallery, my cheering section.

I don't have many friends - none my age, for sure. And I don't have a boyfriend. If driving men away was an Olympic sport, you're looking at the Michael Phelps of Singledom.

I'm really not that lonely. I've got too many hobbies to count, and I am truly happy. But we all need a person. I'm not positive that my being alone later in life will be a problem, just like I'm not positive that I'll actually still be alone and able to park in the middle of my garage.

I guess it's just one of those things. You know it's there, you can't do a thing about it, but its true impact on your life depends on how you perceive it.