My George has passed away. I am deeply sad, but also relieved because he’s no longer in pain. I feel like a part of me has been ripped to shreds, and the physical world is left a little less good because he’s gone. I can’t believe I won’t ever hear his voice again, or feel his grandfatherly arms hugging me tight, and telling me he loves me and that he is proud of me. I can’t believe my George is gone. I had a long, good cry today. I’m not surprised that he’s passed, and I was hoping it would happen sooner rather than later because the compassionate part in me knows that he was in so much pain — it would only be selfish of me to want him longer for my own needs. But still… my heart hurts. It physically hurts. It feels stomped on, and it feels like that good bit in my childhood has gone. A little of it that I want to hold on forever is gone. Another piece that I was proud of. I don’t have many of those pieces in my childhood, and George and Marian were big pieces.

California’s just not California without George and Marian.