So I'm the editor of a monthly youth newsletter for church. We have a regular column on foreign missions, and it's usually either contributed by foreign missionaries or kids who have gone on short mission trips abroad... and they write about their experiences, etc. This month's was written by one of the boys who went to Bangkok last December. He was a member of the youth team that was there when my Dad died, and they hung out with us before he died, and ended up helping out with the funeral a couple nights later. Reading about another person's perspective on witnessing the passing of a missionary in the field was... weird. And I have the unenviable job of plowing through more than 200 photographs of that week, looking for ones to go with the article.
My Dad's been gone for 8 months now. It's okay most days, but not today.