It settles in in small pieces. Deceased. Who decided that was the most legal of terms to describe someone who was touchable one minute and gone the one after? And did they step on this side of the paper long enough to think that maybe there might be something more grief friendly? The last will and testament. Has the feel of cold dirt. Bravefaced when necessary but a puddle at the sight of a silly scarecrow. Losing like this defies consolation and writes its own script moment by moment. Always someone better off, always someone so much worse. He didn't suffer. He's with your mom. He was doing what he loved to do. Yup. Yup. Yup. All happy thoughts. Still doesn't quell the ache that keeps surfacing. Nor does it help it make any sense. I want him back. This just doesn't feel right and underneath all the proper responses faith would ask of me I'm mad. I'm stinking mad. I'm mad because there are so many people who don't spend any time with their parents at all, whose world wouldn't miss them and theirs will live until their teeth fall out. It isn't fair. My mom was my best friend and my dad took her place. I have great memories and fewer regrets but it makes it hurt all the more to be without them.

Threw myself a pity party tonight but that's just where I am. He should be showing up Monday night with a plaid flannel jacket and saunter up the drive way with his unnecessary offerings and tell me his chili is better but mine's decent. He'd sit by the fire with Kevin and quietly "be here" until it was time to put his dog to bed and head home. I'm just really, really going to miss him.

Ok. I need to put this scarecrow out on the porch and get on with it. After all, he didn't suffer, he's with mom now and he was doing something he loved to do...