Made it through the memorial.Didn’t cry until i realized I’d never be the butt of one of his jokes again, that he’d never be nearby to make an off-color comment, that his general silliness was going to be gone. Forever, except in my memories.
he could be a jerk. but he was our jerk, and that’s what mattered, I guess.
Shit, I might cry again. This bites.
My father-in-law, who looks about twice his age right now, looked at me and said “don’t you go doing anything like that either!” to which I replied “Good gods, no. I promised, and anyway, Renee told me what she’d do to me if I did – something about raising from the dead and killing me all over again in slow painful ways.”
I dunno. The hardest part, aside from the constant ‘why” in the back of all our minds, is living – getting past it, making the most of it, and not forgetting the good parts. The bad parts don’t matter so much now, do they? But the good parts – things to save up and tell his children – to tell them who their daddy was – that’s important.
And now, to catch up on my mail after being offline for ~12 hours…