It's stupid, really, but I can't stop thinking about Ashley--and Hana--and their three children. I say stupid, because it feels comparable to someone mourning the loss of a celebrity--someone I never knew, but someone who really touched my life. So I keep thinking about them. I tried to explain it to K tonight, as he doesn't really understand how I feel such a sense of community with people I've never met. But when I told him that Ashley was the author of FYYFF, he seemed to get it, at least a little bit.
I think I'm just emotionally drained right now. K has been working a lot of hours at the restaurant, and my constant companion for the past couple of weeks has been E. Granted, we've had some interesting conversations, but you can only get so in-depth with a three-year-old. Right now, we're debating whether she really is too much of a "big girl" for Sesame Street. Are you kidding me? You're already shunning Big Bird, Grover, the Count and the gang at age three? Granted, Bob is starting to show his age, but I was enthralled with Sesame Street at least up until the age of five, when it then became common knowledge that The Electric Company, Shazam, and Electra Woman and Dyna Girl were the new "it" TV shows. She's also very into Candy Land now--if you ever need a break from life, spend an evening explaining the rules of Candy Land to a toddler--and yes, I let her win.
And finally, there's my friend C, who is currently dealing with sorting through all of the stuff his father left behind, who died two weeks ago. Sorting through your dead father's belongings is bad enough. Now imagine that said father molested you as a child and you left home and began living in your car at age 16 to get away from him.
Not a fun week.