Dark gray, warmed up to almost freezing. Not cold, but not warm, either. Indecisive. The sun rises, but the day gets darker. The snow’s light, fluffy powder thickens, turns to slush, then back to ice.

My grandmother-in-law, 98 years old, has come out of surgery with a terminal diagnosis. We’re considering many alternatives for her, none of them good, just some less bad than others. We’re doing the best we can to help her – and each other – as we all head down the same one-way path.