My father passed away on Thursday, Feb 21 2008. That's one week ago, today.
In the last week, I've spent more time in his apartment than in the last five years combined. He was a man that loved to play guitar, loved looking at pictures of his kids, and loved to hang out at Walmart to flirt with the girls who worked there (all 50 years his younger, btw). He was a nice guy and everyone that met him liked him.
I'd like to say that I did the whole sackcloth and wailing thing, but honestly, I've struggled with how to mourn. He and I were never really close. My earliest childhood memories of him are vague at best. I'm not really a poignant sort of guy, so I'll just say that burying a parent, even one that I don't feel "raised" me is a difficult thing to deal with.
One nice thing about all this - I got to see family members that I'd not seen in years. It's odd to me that in our society today, that funerals seem to be the "family reunions" we all pine for but never work to accomplish.