Sitting in church Sunday morning with my parents and siblings.  Wearing what was supposed to be funeral clothes from our suitcases.  Marveling in my heart over the fact that I wasn't wearing them to a funeral.  Or two.  The words from our hymns soaked deep into my soul, and I couldn't help grinning at the unexpected turn of events - I get to sit in church and sing praises to my Lord instead of standing beside a freshly dug grave aching?  Unbelievable.

Chad woke up yesterday.  Just opened his eyes and looked around.  Squeezed his wife's hand.  Smiled around the tube in his mouth.

(By the way, I know my sentences are not properly formed in this post or the last one, and my chronological order seems to be permanently broken.  I've even caught jumps in thought and a few "inside joke" references that must have left you guys scratching your heads as you tried to follow my meaning, but my brain isn't thinking properly formed thoughts yet.  You're getting all I have to give right now.)

My next visit to Grandpa had revealed a paler, visibly shrunken man from just the day before, and it scared me.  That's why I took that "just in case" "one last" tour of the house and yard.  It was time to leave Illinois, and I knew we didn't have the resources to travel back in case there was a funeral.  That knowledge was killing me inside, but I tried not to think about it too closely.  We stopped at a gas station to fill up before our trip back to Indiana.

Uncle Jeff called my dad's phone while we filled our tank.  News that fit perfectly with the sunshiny day!  Grandpa had woken up and felt like eating!  He was happy.  Awake!  Alive!  The day before, Mom and I had purchased potted plants and brought some pictures and statues of birds from his house to decorate his hospital room.  That's what made him want to live, I'm sure of it.  *wink*

You know what?  MY GRANDPA IS ALIVE!  MY COUSIN IS ALIVE!

I got to sing and dance in my funeral clothes!  So phooey on funerals!  Hooray!