Mom's mother passed Tuesday. Not sudden — she'd been declining for a couple years, the kind of ending everyone could see coming from a distance and still weren't ready for when it arrived. Funeral's this weekend. I keep coming back to something uncomfortable. I've spent years reading about longevity research with a kind of detached, academic interest — Sinclair's papers, the rapamycin data, all of it filed under "interesting field, maybe relevant to what I'm building eventually." This week it stopped being academic. It just became: she's gone, and every serious longevity intervention I've ever read about was decades too slow, underfunded, or still stuck in mice, and none of it was ever going to arrive in time for her regardless. I looked into cryonics tonight, briefly, mostly out of a kind of grief-driven curiosity rather than any real plan. Alcor's real, still operating, still in Scottsdale, still taking new members — under two hundred and fifty people actually preserved there as of a couple years ago, out of the entire world, which tells you something about how fringe this still is even among people who take the idea seriously. I don't think it's what I want for myself, or would have wanted for her even if it had been an option anyone in this family would have considered. But I understand, better than I did a week ago, why someone would choose it anyway — not out of confidence it works, just out of refusing the alternative being certain. Not going to pretend this connects cleanly to anything I'm doing with PROMETHEUS. It doesn't, not this week. Just needed to write it down somewhere that isn't a card I'm supposed to write something comforting on for people I don't know how to comfort.