I got to hang out with a good...one of my bestest friends. I believe he and I will be old and gray and hanging out in Florida somewhere. He's a doll and I love him. I dunno what it is about me and gay guys, but they flock to me like flies to shit, and we just love the hell out of each other. What're you gonna do, you know? Anyway, he was in town for a reunion of sorts with CASC. It was an organization for young people who want to do what they can to change the world. An interesting organization and a very good one, too. In any case, we got to hang together and goof around and see the Giants play in one of their last pre-season games. I got a sunburned scalp and lip. Yay.
That was great. Until I got a call from a friend who called to tell me his mother had a stroke, and was whizzing up to Sac'to on a Saturday night. Apparently, it's one of those final blow strokes, and she will not be recovering. But she is "alive". My father also died of a stroke. It was sudden, and though not all together unexpected (he had had several TIA's prior to his last one), was no less sad and painful. However, one thing that I think got us through it better was that we got to talk to him. He was alive for about a week before he let himself go. We all got to talk to him, we gathered around him and talked amongst ourselves while he was there. And I'll be damned if he didn't hear. I know he did. I dare not go on for fear of tearing up again. Anyway, I just hope he's holding up as best he can. I wish he and his family all the best.
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