Day 1...

It's quiet. My dad is asleep and I'm searching the nooks and crannies of this house he and Tamara called home. Not for trinkets but for meaning. Who was this woman that my dad loved? What was she like? The house stinks of cats. Tamara loved cats, too much maybe, but she loved cats. And she cared for my dad. I'll take the smell of cat urine and feces any day because she loved my dad.

Her family has been here. Her mom...a wonderful and strong woman, spent her time going through Tamara's papers in order to set straight her final affairs. Her brother Greg moved boxes and crap (Tamara was a bit of a hoarder) so her mom could get to more papers to sort through. Two other of Tamara's relatives seemed very nice but all of them just kept taking various trinkets out of the house. Quite rude considering her husband lay sick in the living room as they carried load after load out to their cars.

But then they left. And Dad and I got to talk. Years and years of hurt evaporated and melted during that time. Some from truth never heard, some from knowledge never understood. I was healed. He was comforted. And those others will never understand what happened between two men tonight.