Ten years
Today marks the tenth anniversary of my father's death.
I'm doing surprisingly okay this morning; if anything, a little less tense than I've been lately. Among other things, getting to see Mary Anne helped. Was also good to talk with my brother last night. And all the messages and notes and comments from friends have been really nice.
But I nonetheless think I'm going to be pretty antisocial today. I'm at FOGcon, but I don't think I'm going to do much con activity. May go for a walk, may hang out and write, may attend a panel or two. Have to finish up my notes on the stories for the writing-workshop session I'm leading tomorrow.
I've got nothing deep or profound to say today about my father or death or life. But I miss him.
Here's a photo of me and him in (roughly) July of 1997.
