It's getting better. And harder. I'm with my Mom now and will be here another week and a half or so. It's so good to be here with her, and be able to go in and out of talking about missing him. We talk, and it makes it more real and it's a little easier to accept. But it's still hard to believe.
He's been gone a week now, and I can't really pretend he's out the store anymore. I mean, that's what it felt like at first, like, "Where's Dad?" and the answer could be, "Oh, he's out in the garage," or "Oh, he's out at the store and will be back in a couple hours." It's getting harder for my unconscious to pretend that.
Not enough people have sent flowers, and that pisses us off. When I say us, I mean me and my younger sister. Dad was beloved by a lot of people, in the family and in this community. Some of them have stopped by and been very sweet, and I guess I have to focus on that.
One man I called started crying on the phone when I told him. It broke my heart, but it also warmed my heart to hear how much Dad had meant to this friend.
I guess I'm not in shock anymore, and it's starting to sink in that he's not coming back. I'm glad he's not in pain anymore.
Thanks to the peeps who left me comforting comments, I reallly appreciate it. People react weirdly to death. Someone who I thought I was close to didn't even call, but sent an impersonal card, which really hurt. But other people know just what you need and are very thoughtful, and I'm grateful for those people.