Grief is a funny thing. Since my dad died, there's been a surprising amount of stuff to do. I've been running around, meeting with the funeral home, organizing the service, notifying friends, emailing editors, running to the airport and writing cards and eulogies, among other errands. And that's without tackling the 5-pound "What Do I Do Now?" book about documents and notifications that the funeral director gave us! So, basically, I've been on auto-pilot without time to really sit and cry. Instead, the tears crop up at the most random times: on a short drive to Blockbuster, after the grocery store checkout person asked where my dad was. As sad as I am, I'm taking solace in many things. My dad lived for his family, and it makes me happy that he knew how much we loved him in his later years. I'm so grateful that I didn't let work or frivolous stuff get in the way of the things that really mattered: friends, family, and love.
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