I haven't blogged about this before, because, oh, I don't know, because, I suppose. Early this morning Jimmy's father died. Not unexpectedly; he'd been in hospital a couple of weeks, everything was packing up, the doctors were talking about hospices, he'd had th epriest in a few times, and went onto the morphine - and the singing of Rebel Songs - a couple of days ago.
I don't know realy how to react. I'm not emotionally upset - we weren't close, and I have this awful mentality that finds it difficult to grieve for people who die old (he was eighty five). but of course Jimmy's upset, and I try to be a comfort, but he just wanted to go back to the house and be alone. After we had watched Eagles, Eagles glory day, of course.
It's going to mean a lot of changes round here. But too soon to think about them properly.
In the meantime I have just spent the evening watching telly.
