Remembering

I had a hard time getting to sleep Thursday and Friday night: up until around 4:30 and 5:00. I'm not some forty-year-old kid any more, and I'm not at all sure how long I could keep that up.

Nor to I intend to find out.

The only item I've got left on today's task list is writing this post - after which I'll be turning in.

The fact of my father's death is rather central in my mind just now. Understandably, I suppose. I'm 'between funerals' at the moment: there's a second one next week, in northern Illinois, where my father grew up.

I've said, often enough, that he's a hard act to follow. In the old days, I'd now be "the Gill" in this part of the world - the oldest adult man in my line in the general area. Times have changed, but I'm still the father of this family - even though I didn't go to my father often for counsel, it was good to know that I could.

Now, all I have to work with are my own memories and whatever wisdom I've scraped together over the years.

One thing about my father that I may never surpass is his ability to talk with people. I don't know if it's a product of the thirty-year head start he has on me, or if there's something about him that didn't show up in me.

Oh, well.

On a more mundane and immediate level, I grilled three burgers today, fed Giol, #1 daughter's rabbit, an apple core, and have now caught up with my task list.

Good night.