Read on Twitter
A reply (from a lovely person) just then reminded me. Someone (not on twitter, facebook message) said to me today, "You are laughing and joking and stressing about the booth and things - you must be feeling much better about your dad!"
No. I'm fucking bereft. I cried so hard last night I threw up and then couldn't breathe & Cat asked if she needed to call me an ambulance. But compartmentalisation exists, you know? I am doing my best to parent, and work, and be a person.
The only thing that me trying to be funny proves is that I am still alive. If I'm not at least attempting to make a joke or find some dark humour in something, well then its probably best to check for a pulse. That doesn't mean after two weeks I am 'over it'.
I appreciate everyone's support on here. Both in letting me joke and complain about mundane matters and in offering condolences and empathy, back when he first passed. I'm doing my best. It will be up and down. I may share some of that with you. I may not. But thanks, regardless.
Also I am totally going to try to build the Empire State Building out of LEGO soon. Because, you know, all that free time. IF I CAN'T GO TO NEW YORK, I SHALL BRING NEW YORK TO ME. I mention this because you KNOW I am going to tweet about it. 
Also don't get too comfortable with the lack of me primal-grief-screaming into the void, because it would have been Dad's 74th birthday in another 10 days so I make no promises there. Invest in earplugs, warm up that mute button.
