Little steps to keep us moving forward.

Breathing. 

A couple drinks.

Sleep.

We're all doing the best we can, even if mom lived to the age of 90, it still sucks. Sucks hard.

It's life changing and after having lost dad nearly 40 years ago, we realize that. Nothing will ever be the same. 

My brothers and I met with the priest over readings and the machinations of the ceremony. We retreated to a bar for a couple drinks.

Then I checked into the cheap motel where Kid met me. She flew out from Hollywood. I laid out cheese and sausage and crackers -- as well as a decent bottle of Tawny Port from Penfolds, our new little treat in the late evening -- but we had to meet friends out for dinner.

At a time when I have a hard time dealing with reality, the added busy nature of funeral circumstances confuse me beyond.

Kid is in the shower after her flight and pizza dinner. We'll talk, drink a little wine and then awaken to a day where we plant mom, grandma in the ground.

So odd.

So odd.

Peace unto Ukraine and peace unto all of you my brothers and sisters.