Or worse.
Yesterday Bj and I got the biggest shock of our lives. His mom called me looking for him to tell him that his father passed away. He was only 55 years old. He lived in California and took care of Bj’s grandfather, who found him yesterday. We’re not sure exactly what happened, we just keep saying, "it’s so weird." And then we start crying again. And I’ve only seen Bj cry twice before so it’s just so sad. Yesterday I was in the middle of painting the stairwell and I was going to do this whole, "blah blah blah high places suck to paint, blah, blah, blah" post, and Bj was eating a BLT. Yesterday he kept saying, "I was just out to lunch, I just had a BLT, and now everything is different." We’re going to head down there right away, Bj’s mom and step dad will accompany us. Talk to his grandpa, and get him to move up here so we can take care of him. There is no one else, no brothers, no sisters, no anyone, it’s us. We have to grow up right now. We have to scatter the ashes, and sell the house, and all the stuff, and close accounts, and care for the grandpa. I’m in shock, I’m scared, and I kinda wish I wasn’t old enough to be the one in charge.
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