((( hugs )))
Might need the kind of hug that requires a white jacket with extra long sleeves if I go off on a rant. I'm trying to keep my lips zipped, but it's not working very well.
The skateboarder's best friend, who is a friend of ours, ONCE during the funeral made a gesture as though he was wiping mud off his face after four-wheeling. Once. He cried at the visitation, but not at the funeral. Tough little cookie, this boy. But he looked awful, has ever since it happened.
His dad is a Desert Storm vet who hasn't slept a solid night in 15 years and only admitted it-or acknowledged it outloud-this past New Years Eve when he unloaded it on me. (His hair all fell out after he returned, then came in white, fell out again, and came back normal.) His nightmares have to do with Iraqi children, but are about saving his own children. I laid hands on him and prayed after I told him to look at all the kids-his, his nieces, mine, and picture them sleeping peacefully at night because rough men stand ready. I think it all finally came to a head for him (thank God) because of my son and the stress of wondering what mine will experience brought it all out, at long last. He didn't attend the funeral. Folks can only take so much.
One minute. I'm down to one minute. I could whoop Toles' sorry arse in one minute.