I always figured when the time came, I'd be a broken heap. Mom and I had a complicated history, but we ended up also being very close friends. We did everything together (some of which, we probably shouldn't have done). She and I were always everywhere making trouble - good and otherwise! 
But I've not broken down yet. I've cried as I wrote my message here, and I think the tears flow through the fingers. I think I'm still in shock and unbelieving right now. I can't quite process. I also know I need to bear up for my sister's sake, but that will come with the memorial. Afterwards, I'll probably have my time to grieve. I was so busy after Dad died, I never got a chance to actually grieve for him. I moved in with Mom for a few months to help her get affairs in order, to be company for her at night, and to do the normal everyday things that she just couldn't do in her grief. And, of course, I was working at the time, too. But I find myself at odd times, breaking out in tears for my Dad. When I see a particular sunset, the Little Sisters Constellation, or the Milky Way... things that were important to me and Dad. Who knows... maybe that's how I process grief. We don't always do things the way everyone else does, and that usually goes double for me. I may be the same way with Mom. When the leaves turn in Autumn, I'll probably spend time each year crying, as it was her favorite season. Whenever I hear an Elvis or Johnny Cash song, or see someone playing the Hawaiian guitar, I'll probably cry... like I do when I hear someone play a mandolin like my Dad. I miss her... but oh, gods, I'll miss the stuff we shared together. We had such plans for when I retired. And then I came down with Fibro and Lupus, and she got Alzheimers. What do they say about the best laid plans? That's life!
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