Just got back from spending the day with my family at the cemetery. Luckily my father isn't buried in the same place as my mother and brother. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's in some unhallowed ground somewhere, covered by three feet of concrete and peed upon daily by incontinent Chihuahuas. At least I hope so.
Anyway, that's besides the point. Spending time at their gravesides made me feel... better. More at peace with myself, as perverse as that probably sounds. I had a good long talk with... well... I don't know. Myself... them... both... who knows. Cleared up some of my emotions. Got some things off my chest, into the ether, as it were.
I guess I should get a sandwich or something. I haven't eaten yet.