It's Like When Your Second Child Comes

When your first child comes, you take so many pictures, do so much documentation. When your second child comes, that child is no less special, but often, the pictures and writings are fewer. That is what it feels like for me right now, but it is with regard to the death of my father which followed my mother's by 2 years. It has been 2 days since my Dad was buried. All I have been through, I have not lifted a pen to my journal which I kept during the last days of my mother's life. I suppose I am not ready yet. I remember his time of death. I remember giving him his morphine, of bathing him head to toe the morning of his death. But I have yet to write of his last days, the last year or even of my memories of him. Still in a blur, I feel like I am in slow motion.