A bad scene

So, how to begin. Well, I guess I'll just spit it out: my grandma's got terminal pancreatic cancer that's metastasized to her liver and back, and the doctor's doesn't think she'll survive the next 30 days. "She's full," I guess, is enough of a diagnosis to have us all scurrying to make sure her last days are comfortable and pain-free. Good luck with that, but she seems to be a comfy camper on morphine, among other things. Mom, Auntie Donna and I have been frequent and extended visitors to Grandma's hospital room. However, today, she was moved to a hospice home. I haven't been to visit her there yet, but Donna says it's really nice. We'll check it out tomorrow once Mom and Aunt Jacque get back into town.
So, to say the least, this is going to be a weird month or so. It's laying heavy on my mind. What's worse is that I'm kind of having to deal with this the same way I dealt with Howie. Meaning, I'm not dealing with it at all. I've got Sydney to keep moving along happily; I've got Mom to keep sane; and I've got any manner of others that I'm being strong for.
But also, given the opportunity, I wouldn't know how to act or what to think anyway.
So, my friends, that's how it's going right now.