My mom died last Friday 24 April, a little over a month after her 79th birthday, of complications associated with her small cell lung cancer, treatments for same, and a confluence of other health problems that have been ongoing for about the past 10 years. I didn’t understand her as a human being and I wish I had. I wish I’d been a better son. Easy for me it is to justify the steps I’ve taken over my lifespan to differentiate, but today I just feel a sense of guilt and failure. Sadness. Grief.
On Saturday the PowerMac went into kernel panic and would only boot from a tiny emergency partition without ability to mount the machine’s other volumes. On Monday the HP DV6 laptop I use for academic projects black-screened. Disk Warrior 4.2 arrived today and corrected the Mac’s problems. The laptop’s hard disk is beyond the reach of mortal assistance, however all of the files resident thereon were recovered. I’ve ordered a replacement drive and will reinstall Windows 7. All this approaching end-of-year deadlines.
These problems are trivial in comparison to news received today that my wife’s grandfather may not live longer than another couple of days.