Wednesday morning. I’m at my on-campus job, talking about weekend plans with some co-workers, discussing something, but it’s not important what. In the middle of the conversation, my watch starts buzzing. Then my phone is ringing from somewhere in my backpack. Then my computer recognizes what’s happening.
“Kathy Kooda (mom) calling…” I knew something had to be up. Most of the family had taken a much-needed vacation, and was spending the week in the Dominican Republic. My co-workers voices blurred out, I fished my phone from out of its hiding spot, and answered.
My sister was on the other end, blubbering, “Sissy?” Something was definitely up. I couldn’t understand much, but I had gotten all I needed. “Grandma died.”