We spent four hours with the funeral director getting everything set up for Dad's funeral and composing his obituary, which is pretty much torture when you need to remember 94 years worth of detail accurately and just can't. It didn't help that we were all exhausted and broken-hearted and nearly all sick. The draft is just icky; the grammar comes and goes and some stuff isn't so accurate. So I'll try to polish it up later and email in the corrections. I mean, we totally left out that he was a superhero. (Secret identities expire when you die.)
I promise I will yet produce an accurate account of Dad's last 24 hours or so. Soon.
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