Nim's dead, and my wound healed before mom and dad even got back from their trip.  Typical.  They're checked out of everything that happens to me.

All the doctors are saying how amazing it is that I'm better. 

But I don't feel better.  Not really.  Maybe the sadness is getting to me.  I don't know.  I don't feel much of anything.  It's over.  That's it.  There's nothing else.  We're here for awhile, walking around, doing things that seem so important, and then we're gone and it's over. 

Sometime, not now, maybe I'll get to a point where I just feel glad that Nimrod was a part of my life, that I'm just grateful for the time we did have together, for the miracle he was, and I'll celebrate his life, and see the positive in everything and blah blah blah.  Sometime maybe I'll feel that way.  Not now.