Well...

Today was unexpectedly difficult. I attended the funeral of my Mom's cousin. I didn't know him terribly well, but they had been very close. He has three kids, all about five years apart. Matthew is ~16, the same age I was when Dad died. It's so easy to see myself in him. What a stupidly hard age to lose a parent.

The eldest, Rebbecca, is getting married in June. Her Dad won't be there to walk her down the aisle. She bore up under the pressure well today and took excellent care of her little sister. She broke down at the cemetery though. It was planned poorly, and the family didn't get a chance at the grave by themselves. Her breakdown was embarrassingly public. I hope she wasn't embarrassed or ashamed. She shouldn't have been.

The hardest moment in my life was after the graveside service for Dad. There is nothing, NOTHING, so horrifyingly final as watching Dad's casket being lowered.