Maybe this isn't a good fanpost, maybe it is.  Frankly, I don't care...

A few weeks back, I made a FanPost entitled "An Escape from Life at Busch Stadium."  In it, I detailed the circumstances of my grandmother's final days and the events which surrounded me when I attended a Cardinals game the day before heading to South Bend to say goodbye to her.  I was astonished to see no less than 10 recommendeds on the post.  I just felt like writing out my feelings, explaining how an experience at Busch had helped me deal with the passing of someone I loved, and amazingly at least 10 people "recommended" it.  I hadn't expected that.

Anyway, back to the original reason for THIS FanPost.  My grandmother, Janette Gwynne Starr, passed away on a Sunday in June of 2008.  This was a woman who had survived the Great Depression, WW2 (as a relative of many who fought in Europe and the Pacific, with luckily no fatalities), the turbulent years of the 50's and 60's, and a bought of lymphatic cancer and the diabetes/heart attack of her husband of decades.  However, a second round of cancer was too much for her.  This particular strain spread up her spine and into her skull before the oncologists batted an eye or filled out a chart.  It would be easy for me to blame these folks for delaying in aiding a sick old woman, but my late grandmother would never allow that from me.  That's not who she was.  This was a woman who had had her own wedding hi-jacked by the whims of her stupid and insensitive soon-to-be in-laws, my great aunt and uncle, and yet went along with it to make her married life as happy as possible.  She was a tough and gritty woman, right up until the end, willing to stare death right in the face instead of attempting desperate, and clearly futile, efforts to prolong her life.  She was courageous beyond all belief, a woman who showed a great deal of love for her grandkids and great-grandkids, asking me how my own daughters were doing even as she lay dying, her body ravaged by a cruel disease. 

Equally courageous was my grandfather, a man who did not fight in the war himself because of crippling pain in his left knee caused by a misdiagnosed torn-ACL that went untreated for 10 years.  He did nothing for a month but comfort my grandmother, call the hospice folks, and handle phone calls from concerned relatives, all in order to make everything as comfortable as possible for my grandmother.  He was a man raised in an era which forbid men from crying for any reason, and yet openly wept at the prospect of losing the woman who had given him three wonderful daughters (including my mother), and with whom he had spent nearly three-quarters of a century.    

I will never forget my grandmother, nor will I ever forget the kindness that some of you showed here on this web forum devoted to such an extraneous thing as the St. Louis Cardinals.  I thank everyone who took, or will take, the time to read either of these FanPosts, and I ask only that you remember that some things go beyond baseball, and that this glorious game can act as a crutch to help us hobble through the darkest of times in our lives.  Thank you so very much, and I hope that you all never have to deal with anything this painful in your own lives.  A truly hopeless wish, and yet...