Two days ago our friend’s father died. He was in his 80s, on life support, and his life ended.
I hate death. I mean, I really hate death. It pains me, no matter whether the deceased was 10 or 50 or 85. It’s still the end. Over. Never again.
I also struggle with the aftermath of someone’s loved one dying. I detest saying, “I’m so sorry,” because it’s cliche, and repetition has made the three words seem awfully insincere. Of course, I am sorry. Very sorry. But the words don’t convey that.
Anyhow, off to bed. Hug your family.