I needed an adjustment to all the noise in the house - it was nice and civilizedly quiet in South Africa.
The weather is also playing a role - no more blue skies, sunshine, t-shirts or flip-flops.
Back to boots, coats, scarves and central heating - all in different shades of grey.
A week ago I left my mom in South Africa.
It already feels like so much longer than just a week.
Here, a photo from the Sacramento Restaurant's terrace of the sea.
We were there in February when my dad was still with us, and we went there now when he was not.
He liked to sit on the bench there way up front, and look at the sea.
I miss you daddykins, so much that my chest hurts and squeezes.
Death sucks.
Missing someone sucks.
My dad's passing has wrought a makeshift closure of sorts - there is no more worrying how this will all end.
No uncertainty of which treatment plan to follow.
No more 'will he make it?'.
Death is brutal in its certainty and leaves no room for mercy in its wake.
It leaves one with a not-a-ripple-on-the-surface-of-the-lake kind of calm and clarity.
There is life to be lived, people to love - because we will all die one day.
And I didn't believe it, really.
We are going into the weekend with no clear plan.
I have friends to call and catch up with.
Laundry.
Son #2's swimming lessons, and Son#1's rugby practice.
Son#3's all-of-a-sudden-I'm-throwing-tantrums-by-the-bucket-loads to manage.
And a kind husband that must be relieved of looking-after-kids-duties.
The man works hard, and should be rewarded.
Have a good weekend, dear reader.
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