The inlaws are in town

They arrived last night. We drove to the airport to pick them up, much like we did last year, two weeks before Serenity's due date.

We picked them up outside; neither of us wanted to go into the luggage carousels, like we did last year. No reason to revisit that ride.

The drive home was quiet. Triple S and I are accustomed to silence. We can just be together, my hand on his leg. MIL is peppering us with questions. I think I actually grunted when she asked me how my parents are. They are a thorn in my side. 'Grunt.'

After several one word answers from the two of us, "So are you two okay?" Triple S mutters an ok. If we were ok, would you need to ask?

It was a draining evening, not their fault, just because. They are kind and caring people and I have never felt anything but acceptance and concern from them. It just is deadbabyland. Welcome back.

When Triple S and I were lying in bed, about to fall asleep, he told me that his pa said it was a hard year for the family. Eldest sister had a stroke and can't remember anything, second aunt's husband died, third uncle nearly died because his K/Na levels were off and he fell and hit his head, and Neinei's cousin had a stroke and is paralyzed and intubated in the hospital.

As Triple S ended the litany, he saw me squeezing my eyes shut. He asked me if I was ok, and I shook my head.

"They're all old people," I whispered, trying not to cry.

They've all seen their children, grandchildren and maybe even great-grandchildren grow. Some of them don't have birth certificates, well, maybe they did but they have been lost in the revolutions. But there will be death certificates when they die. Their children will become orphans. They will receive bows at the alter when they pass. Incense will be burned in their name and fruit will be left to them, once they join the ancestors. They will be remembered, and talked about in reminiscences. People will have shared memories of them. They've lived their lives. And I hurt that they are suffering, that their children are fearing it is time for them to go. That they are fighting the reaper.

But don't lump the death of my baby into the same category. Her potential will not be realized. Triple S and I are un-characterized mourners. We will never see her children; she will not hold our hand on our death bed.

Some deaths are simply more tragic.