En olycka kommer aldrig ensam

***UPDATE: This is a cached version, since I accidentally
deleted the original post. All comments are unfortunately lost.*** 


Literally: A misfortune never comes alone.

Last night Cinnamon man's grandmother passed away. She was 98 years old,
lived in a 24-hour nursing home and had been very ill in the last year.
My man came to Sweden a couple of years ago primarily to care for her
(his last remaining grandparent) since her only daughter lives in the States.

A strong Skåne (southernmost part of Sweden) woman in her day,
with long white hair in a bun on top of her head - I only met her
a couple of times, but my man visited her almost every week.
At the end she could hardly stay awake, she didn't know what
time or day it was - but she always recognized him.

Now he doesn't have enough time left in Sweden to take care of things,
so his parents will have to fly over almost as soon as he's back in America.
Even though there is some relief coupled with her passing (because she
has been getting so much worse these last few months), it just feels
so unfair for life to put even more weight on his burden at this moment.


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