My father has, in fact, passed away. He suffered a stroke; it was quick. It’s never a surprise when someone who is ninety-five dies, but it is always a jolt when a parent dies, especially the second parent to do so.
It was a bigger jolt for my sister. He died sitting at the kitchen counter of her home, having coffee. That makes for an awful interlude.
She’s in Tucson; I’m in Thailand. I’m also in the middle of my summer term at school, with students to teach. Or be taught by someone. Luckily I can afford to buy a last minute “full fare” airline ticket. “Bereavement” is no longer an issue that interests air carriers. I’ll probably make it within a few days. It’s Saturday morning as I find out about it, and before I leave I’ll need to get a reentry VISA. That’ll be Monday, the next day that that office is open. We’ll see how it goes.
So I hope that your morning is going better than mine is. Not that I’m complaining, I’ve got the living part. The dead part is harder.