Letters to Holly

Tuesday, June 24


The visitation and funeral for Louis are today and tomorrow, and I'm exhausted just thinking about them. of course Mom has to deal with all this. She sounds OK, and she says she's surprised she has no tears. I think she's out of them. She says she doesn't cry about dad anymore, and that's good. They had prepared for his death since January. Louis has planned for his for about ten years, but it happened because he rejected the rehab. The oldest and youngest of the Clardy children are the only ones left out of five. It's Mom and Uncle Don.

I drive down this afternoon and come back Wednesday night. My suit still has the dry-cleaning tags following Dad's funeral. Your Sister and Parents will stay in North Carolina. The latter only met Louis at the funeral. Your Sister met him last year, and he was awfully sweet on her. Louis was a man with a broken heart and a sad knowledge of himself. He needed a woman like her to clean up his act but knew he couldn't keep her around.

The best thing I can possibly do for mom is to keep breathing.

Picture of the Day
Diving in.

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