Last Friday was his last day. I still don't know what to say about it. Besides Joel, only Nancy knows, so far. And I'm not really sure why I'm keeping it so much to myself. Can't really be all that different from so many who lose a parent they didn't really know. Just Thanksgiving and all...no point in bumming out the natives. Mom passed at Thanksgiving, too...
Only notice I'm found so far...
Apparently, he was sick several weeks ago. I heard about in late October after he'd just had surgery and things weren't looking so good for him. They called in relatives. I didn't go. Things to do, you know: a play in Albuquerque we'd bought tickets for last February; a doctor's appointment in Texas; stuff... you know, planning for the Thanksgiving soiree. just stuff.
And then he got better. Amazingly so. And everyone that had come in to town for him went home. And I didn't go. I thought I'd rather see him alive than dead...and how much more convenient to go in a few months when he's stronger, and winter is here, and a trip could be a get-away and not just a mad dash to a sick bed...or a funeral.
So, now the funeral is Wednesday. And I'm not going. And I don't really know how I feel about that. Bill isn't, either. We're sending flowers. Nice ones. All the folks in Florida for this occasion are people I don't know at all. Except Frankie, his wife. I would love to be able to give her a big hug. Her son is there with her, and tons of other relatives. Not that any of them can really make her feel better...
My people are here...sorta. I haven't really told anyone. My brother Bill is in Texas.
I'm just feeling sorry. Sorry he's dead and I didn't go see him. Sorry for Frankie. Sorry for myself.
So, I've put this up...for L and E, mostly. And to mark the event. And for the crying time this writing has afforded me. Hadn't done much; needed to... This is what we're sending:
