So every few months, I get what I think is a bog-standard grief dream. My dad is alive. The death was a mistake. The funeral? An error.

( Cut for discussions of death and grieving. Because you might have something more cheerful, or at least less morbid, to do today. I won't be hurt if you do! )

To everyone who commented or e-mailed, texted, IMd, or phoned, or otherwise sent condolences and support: thank you. I know I don't have to thank you, or respond at all, but it means a lot to me to know that my communities, local and remote, are there and are thinking of me and my family.

To those of you who have asked if there's anything you can ( Read more... )

I woke up this morning to the kind of phone call you never want to wake up to.

My brother had been calling my cellphone, which was, of course, dead and downstairs. There'd been an accident. My father is dead.

My father is dead.

It's true, but it really doesn't seem like it should be. Of course it doesn't.

I woke up this morning, and found myself in ( Read more... )