Tonight, Mom reports that Grandpa’s become very frail. He sleeps a lot, she says. That’s good, I said. It means he’s not distressed. She says he wasn’t hungry for blueberry muffins a couple of days ago, but yesterday ate chowder with gusto. He’s fading, she says. I’ve been down this road, I said, fairly recently. I know, she says. You should try not to worry, I said, often things are worse when we worry than when they actually happen. I’ve been worried a lot, she says. There’s only one question left to ask, I said, did you open a bottle of wine yet? What, she asks. Red coping mechanism or white coping mechanism, I said. Actually, she says, I found a stray gin and tonic and gave it a good home. Call me tomorrow, I said.