So... it's been a year.

Precisely one year ago, my grandfather had just died, I was in the hospital, and the family van was a wreck at the side of I-91.

The odd thing is that I still haven't written about the whole thing here.

I probably should.

But I still don't have time.

Oh, well.

• My grandfather's still dead.
• My mother's still paralyzed from the waist down, and doesn't have very much use of the stuff above the waist either. She still needs assistance to blow her nose.
• My forehead and eyelid are still healing, but they're both looking good these days. Especially by comparison to the way they were several months ago.
• The van's been replaced.
• (As an aside, 'cause I know I wondered about this when news of the Firestone recall hit the news last week... while the cause of the accident was a tire blowout, it wasn't a Firestone tire.)
• The whole rest of the family has moved, and the new house is pretty spiffy, I guess. It's not home, but it's a nice enough place.
• I hate cars. I hate getting rides in them. I'm a bit better with buses and trains, but I still flinch whenever I hear anything screech, or if we get within a couple feet of anything else on the road. I never much liked cars before this, but now I'm even more paranoid about 'em. If I were King of the Universe, everyone would walk.
• Of course, that would put me out of a job, given that I take the bus to it, so never mind.