I hope it's okay for me to post again about my Dad. It's not real, is it?

[bertha katzenengel]

It's just too god damned unreal. I don't know how to articulate what I feel. Driving home this afternoon, I passed two old barns and a terrific rusty old tractor. Each fucking time I thought "I have to shoot that and send it to Dad." Last night I saw a man with white hair & beard. That set me off.

But I haven't really, really let go and grieved. It must be too soon.

I'll tell you what I really grieve about: I can't go home. Mrs. V. needs me here; her health is a little shaky right now.

I wish that I could reply to everyone who posted in my other two threads. You are very kind. Please know I've read each and every response.

I'm just gonna go sit around until the dryer buzzes. Thanks for reading.