One Week Later

As I sit on the couch, with the laptop in front of me, resting on the top of the cat's scratching post, the news ran a story about young widows who lost their husbands in Iraq. One said that it's hard to be 21-years-old when all your friends are just starting in serious relationships and you're already a widow. I couldn't imagine what that must feel like, but it reminded me of Mom and while she is older, she now knows what it's like.

Then, I looked at the calendar and then the clock and I remember that a week ago, today, in less than 3 hours, Mom lost her best friend, her entire world. It's hard for me to believe that it's been a week already. The days felt like they dragged individually, but now it seems like they went by very fast. After this past week, the only thing I can say about death is that the one who passes away has it easy. There's far too much paperwork and bureaucracy involved that can, and in my experience will, go wrong. It's disgraceful, but I digress.

I miss him a lot, my Dad. It hits me at the weirdest times, too. I ran into a friend yesterday that last he knew, Dad was on the mend. When I told him the news, I was reminded that he lost his Mom two years ago. He gave me some very good advice. He said that [it will hit you when you least expect it. Don't fight it, just let it out. It will take time, a lot of it, but it will get better.] It was hard to hear, but I needed to hear it.

Now, to get through the second week.