That's probably the most shocking thing about all this...the fact that life goes on, even though someone ripped the spinal column out of our family. We go to work, pay bills, make plans, even start to forget a little...not about him, of course, but that it's happened; it doesn't remind you every 5 minutes, more like every 10...and that's almost harder because then there's the inevitable "my gosh, I haven't thought about X for Y minutes/hours...what the hell does that mean?" And you hash it out in your head and try not to feel guilty for letting life do that, and wonder if it's you coping or burying, and what that'll do to you in the long run...there's some vicious cycling to this train of thought. But you're usually saved by some random thing that results in a complete meltdown and the guilt abates. Was flipping around last night and came across "It's My Party" on the Logo channel. I love this flick; the plot is sad, but the gallows humor is hilarious. But the main character dies peacefully at the end, and it brought to mind how Dad may have taken the decision from us, but it wasn't peaceful; it was 36 hours of fear and pain masked by morphine, and he died with tubes shoved in every conceivable orifice. I know I can't think that way; besides, the morphine had him basically comatose at the end. Still, it made me ache, and I was a mess the rest of the evening.
So today will be a quiet day, a thoughtful one...can't do KB tonight because I can't spare the gas and have no dough for coffee, so I'll putter and pack, because we're going to SC tomorrow night after work. Our niece Kylie is getting baptized on Sunday. I'm thinking of wearing at least the top of my funeral outfit; it's so bright and pretty, and it'd be nice to wear it for something happy. I look forward to hugs from Husby's fam, holding Kylie, walking around their neighborhood, and enjoying a sit in their side yard where they have a respite of hardwood outdoor furniture amidst the pine trees...I like to knit out there, but we'll see how oppressive the heat is. Hate going up to the baptism empty handed though...is it completely unrealistic for me to try and knit a baby sweater in 60 hours?