As just about everybody knows, Jack died at home. 911 was called, and they came and did their thing. He died in the shower, and they moved him from the master bath to the bedroom to work on him on the floor. This is the kind of memory I'd rather not have, but it will probably always be with me. It seems now like I find reminders of that night without warning. Today I was cleaning the floors ~ sweeping & mopping the hardwood. I found one last cap from the code meds under his altar. (It's not the first. I'm sure they cleaned up when they were done, but they forgot some little stuff.) And I've swept in there before today, too! Being an RN, I know what it is when I see it. I'm hoping that's the last one. But it was a reminder that I wasn't expecting. Then, I picked up an old piece of paper that was stuck under my desk. At the top was Jack's writing. It was just the beginning of a shopping list, but still. I just miss him so much. I'd so much rather have him here.
Meanwhile, Sarah's in the other room where all of his magickal stuff is having a "service" with her imaginary friends for Papa (their name for Jack). There's dancing time and time to talk about your memories of him. Wow. What a kid.
On the bright side, at least my floors are clean. At last.