Death and The Literary Appeal

Don't... read too much into the title, or do.

I've taken two deaths in the family since the end of August. The first one is why I scrapped the chapters I had written because it reminded me of the reason I stopped writing in the first place - My Grandmother's passing. She was a writer I never knew about, published poetry and found herself in books across the nation. She never told us grandkids. And I only found out at her funeral. When my wife's grandfather passed in late September, I was reminded once more how fleeting our lives are sometimes, as he was getting ready to fight the cancer that claimed him so suddenly.

But the second death came swiftly. In one breath we found cancer in his leg, and during surgery to save his life, they opened him up, and then they found more growths, some the size of baseballs, and he passed away on the table from a completely separate form of cancer to the first.

I keep making excuses why I can't seem to write. But it's just so hard right now to spend what quiet I'm allowed to have working on this, despite wanting to. Needing to, really. I will get to it. I want so badly to finish it.

Maybe next time I'll post pictures of the puppy. She's getting so big.