It goes on.

Normalacy has reasserted itself in my life- the initial trauma of my dad's death has pretty much passed, and the minutia of daily life has pressed in on me. I'm not even so much sad at this point- just every so often I remember that I don't have a father. My life continues.

This is a good thing- getting absorbed in the problem of getting a coroner or docter to certify my father's death, focusing on organizing my collections, even my fury at having the majority of the story I was working on deleted by my PDA. It's detailwork all helpd me to reestablish my balance- and I'm even wanting to go back to work.

My friends and fiance have been tremendous helps- and simply writing helped quite a bit. And now, I have pumpkin nut bread to make, a kitchen to clean, and boxes of comics to shove uncder the bed before my lovely delicate fiance trips over them again, and strangles me, and I have a story to rewrite from memory...

As the man said, it may end, but it never stops.