The wake and funeral are over. I mailed out the last of the thank you cards over the weekend. My Mom now rests in her favorite spot: the living room with my Dad. And her little bird, Peanut. This is the part I worried about the most: the weeks after her death. When everyone else’s life moves on except ours. When people stop reaching out. Stop checking in. If anyone reading this knows my Dad. Or Sister. Or Niece… (but, mostly my Dad), please just say ‘hey.’ When my Uncle died last year my cousin told me at his wake that ‘she was holding up ok but her heart hurt for her Mom.’ I understand that now. My Dad is my rock. He was the one person I ‘never had to worry about.’ And now, he’s the one I lie awake in bed at night worrying about.