Gone.

My dad called me last night. I knew what he was going to tell me, because he started out by saying, "Don't cry because you'll make me cry." So I held it together while he cried.

"Dad's gone," he said.

For the majority of my life, my father has referred to my grandfather as "Gramps" when he talks to me about his father. But last night, my father was the kid again and his dad is gone.

I don't know what it is about our relationship that does this to my dad, but he's ok until he talks to me. Then he cries. If you met him on the street or behind the corner at his pharmacy, you would never suspect that he would be the teary-eyed kind of guy. He never was when I was a kid. It was only when my mom got sick that he realized it's ok to express your emotions.

So, now I feel like I've got a million things to do. JAK came over today and dyed my hair for me, so I wouldn't be flashing the rest of the family with my white roots. I've got laundry to put away. I've got to pack to go to Parrsboro... I've got contingency plans to make at work. Andrew and I have both got to hit the mall tomorrow morning to see if we can find something to wear. (Thank goodness Winners is now nearby).

And I have a eulogy to write.