Started down the road to take Mum to the hospital for her regular checkup. I observed that her appointment was 5 weeks earlier than originally arranged. Then she wasn't sure if the appointment was today (Feb 1) or Mar 1. We turned back to check the paperwork. Yep, wrong day, supposed to be March 1.
Then the phone rang. It was Mum's youngest remaining sister, calling to say that Uncle Harry, their eldest sister's husband had died overnight from the complications of Parkinson's and a stroke he'd had three years ago. He was 90, the funeral whenever that turns out to be will be interstate, at least 5 hours away by road. Mum wants me to take her there.