Late thoughts

Well, it's just past a week (as in, a few minutes past) since my dad died.

I'm sitting here printing out some of the digital photos from last Thanksgiving - one of Leah, one of Julie and her daughter, one of mom, dad, and me, and one of all my brothers and sister, my folks, and myself together.

And it hit me, that was the *last* time we'll all ever be together.

I mean, I knew it then, obviously, that it could be. But to have it go from a "could be" to a "was" is... well, it hits kind of hard. Did I make the most of the time? Did I have enough time with him? Was there *ever* really enough time?

Then I think, he was happy. He had all his kids around him, and *their* kids, and even some of *their* kids. He had everyone there, for *him.* He was comfortable, he knew he was loved, we were there to thank him and honor him...

I have to stop this now. You understand.