I stayed at Mom and Dad's from Wednesday to early this afternoon. Mom and Dad have been talking to the extended family. Last night, the three of us had a Zoom call with my brother; we switched to a phone call on speaker when the Zoom signal went wonky. Family (and friends; I appreciate that) have been in touch.
We're dealing with life post-Robert.
This is several kinds of difficult and weird and tiring.
(It's a challenge not to say Too Much here, or in my other online forums. There are things we know that are not going to be passed along; some things only the immediate family needs to know.)
Most of the past three days, I've rested. Mom and Dad's home in Dundee, Oregon has a nice suite in the daylight basement: it gets dark and cool, and comfortable. Both Thursday and Friday mornings, I could wake up — eventually — and walk in the wide, tree-lined backyard. In a small blessing, it's cooled off, especially in the mornings. I've taken it easy, and napped mostly when needed. I've stayed quiet. I've kept thinking.
My parents and I have talked a bit. Updates when they'd heard stuff I hadn't, but also generally shooting the breeze: what books have been good, do I have a plan for a first film back in a movie theater, stuff like that.
We're allowed to enjoy stuff.
We're allowed to joke about stuff.
We're still dealing with the truly serious stuff at the same time. We're still communicating, and — this helps — being careful with each other.
Friday. Three days since the news. The news will inform many days after.
As for now, I just re-read "After," my poem for Dana Thompson after her death. Some of "After" can apply here.