I'm amazed that anyone still reads this blog as it's often as entertaining as an open wound, but if you're here, thanks.
As for why I continue to do this, airing our grief like a Times Square crazy hectoring skittish schools of horrified tourists, I don't know and I'd rather not explore it too deeply. But it helps.
Then there's the practical side. My family always knows what's going on, which is not always a good thing.
But for all those who do read this and have sent words of kindness and support, I am indebted.
I'm also indebted to the Durham County Public Library. I dropped by yesterday to pick up a book and while browsing found a box set of Atlantic Records. That's the house band up there - Duck Dunn, Booker T. Jones, Steve Cropper and Al Jackson - and they're the guys you hear backing up everyone from Aretha to Otis Redding.
Last night I drove to the hospital listening to these guys. This morning I drove to work listening to these guys. Those big horns, that bass line, Aretha demanding just a little bit, well, it helped. Helped? It's a fucking miracle is what it is.
And it's enough to get me through this morning.
Music and friends.
I know that in the months ahead, I'll be turning to both.