Grandpa Crampton is in the hospital again. said that he was yelling at Grandma about a boyfriend she had had over fifty years ago, and then overdosed on some pills. said that he “kind of went back in time”, and then overdosed. They think it was his Xanax, but they can’t be sure.

Shortly after Dad () arrived on the scene to help, Grandpa lost consciousness. They called an ambulance, and he went back to the hospital. That was yesterday, late afternoon. As of 10:00 this morning, he still hasn’t woken up. Dad is up there, and he says he and his sisters are taking care of each other and of Grandma.

He says that I don’t have to come up, but I’m more than welcome. Either tonight or tomorrow, I’m going up to Birch Run. Come hell or high water.

Out of all of the other times, I’m freaking out over this one. I’m freaking out because Grandpa’s coming unhinged, and because I see that dormant possibility in my father and in myself. Joe () comes across as more stable, but maybe he’s just better than me at pretending.

I’m freaking out because I’m thinking about losing Grandpa. I’m thinking about the time he took his gun out to his carpentry shed. I’m thinking about the time when his other meds messed with his anti-depressants, and he was verbally violent (NOT the Grandpa I’ve ever known or seen). I’m freaking out because I’m thinking about losing Grandpa.

I’m freaking out because I feel a primal fear that is not wholly internal and not wholly external. I’m freaking out because I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep it together when I bring Grandpa a copy of my article, and he’s just going to be there sleeping, and I won’t be able to wake him up. Or worse, he’ll let loose this hidden and foreign rage on me, and I won’t be able to withstand it.

The depths of this terrifies me.