Lost One of my Daddies ...

The Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, died yesterday at 2:37 eastern time. At the time, I was at my father-in-law's bedside, and I had to hold my feelings in. By the time I got home, I was emotionally drained

I still can't believe he's gone. Nearly half of my life - he's been the Holy Father. In last decade, I've grown to love him in such a personal way, and really feel as if I know him. I'm going to mourn him for a very long time.

Pop seems to be rallying a bit, and I'm afraid that he will begin to sink again without warning. It hurts so much to see him like that. He's always been so sweet and funny - tough - dependable. My ally ... sometimes my only ally. I would trade places with him, if I could.

Tomorrow, I will go to the hospital to do my "standing order" lab work, and then head back out to the rehab to be with Pop. I don't want Althea to be there by herself. She looks so tired.

I will fill out some of the details of my life when I'm not so emotionally exhausted and distraught.

Good night, blog-land.