I hate that Dad is gone. I hate it when I'm doing something, focused on it, then stop. And then remember that Dad is gone.
Not crying anymore, so I guess that's good. Just reminiscing now.
Haley had a rough morning. The week finally caught up to her. It's kind of unfair to expect a 6 year old to start school (after expecting to start 2 weeks prior), deal with a death in the family, go to a funeral of said loved one, and see her parents cry, all in the span of a few days. She was exhausted and spent by tonight. We put her in bed without brushing her teeth.
I'm feeling a little guilty getting on with my life. I had band practice last night. Tonight I'm going to watch some TV. My brother, on the other hand, is at Mom's right now. She's pretty much told us to get on with our own things, but we still need to get her settled. Today's the first day I haven't seen her since Dad passed. We'll go see her tomorrow.
I think I'm most bothered by the fact that Dad should've lived 20 to 25 more years, if not for the cancer. I know it's neither here or there at this point, but, motherjumper, I feel cheated by that. It's a damn shame, is what it is. I just hope the other parents in the family can take the initiative to get themselves healthy, if not for themselves, but for the grandkids.
I miss you, Dad. Why'd you have to be so stubborn???