I've received several well wishes, calls and cards from friends, neighbors, and family in the last couple of weeks. Thank you all for your sympathy.

My dad's ashes are resting on the mantle in a sealed black box mailed to me from the crematorium in Denver. On one side are his glasses, the other side is the jar of Jason's grave dirt. We're going to take his ashes to Corpus some time in late Spring when Rusty's work schedule lightens up and the beaches are warm enough for the boys to make sand castles and mud pies. I've stopped having terrible dreams about my father's death. I still want a few answers but those will come in time. Nell still calls me. She's still very distraught, sobbing on the phone looking for some comfort. Her calls stress me out a little and drag down my spirits but I take her calls anyway. She needs someone to talk to who's been through all the details of the past year and that someone is me. It's an adjustment for me. I was so used to her calling to complain about my dad or seek marital advice or give me updates on his well being. Now it's just missing him and coping with the new crater of emptiness in her life. She has her small urn of ashes in her room and talks to him sometimes.

As for me, my life is full of friends, family and neighbors who preoccupy my time and attention.

I still rotate my emotions. If I think about things enough (or get caught up in a phone call with a well wisher) I begin feeling either angry or mournful. The sad feelings will go away in time but I think there's some anger issues that may simmer for awhile until I confront them somehow. I feel like I didn't get enough of him when he was alive no matter what I tried to do. He was absent for the most part in some form: physically, emotionally, soberly. There are stories he promised to tell me someday. And there were plans to go fishing with his grandsons some day. It's not his fault these things won't happen, but it will weigh on me for some time.

I don't wear my stress and melancholy on my shoulder. If I say I'm doing fine and feeling fine and moving on, it's true. It's when I'm writing in my journal (aka blog) or confiding with a close friend that my feelings surface. Then they go back below until my mind quiets and wanders that direction.

On that note, in the spirit of Facebook, Sarah is going to watch the movie "The Other Boleyn Girl" and have a snack.



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