At this moment, Hurricane Sandy is pummeling the East Coast. I can't stand watching the bad news pour in on my Facebook feed anymore. So I'm back here for a long overdue post. It's already been almost 3 weeks since Geoff died. It seems like yesterday and at the same time, it feels like it never happened.
I still diligently turn on his music when Shnook and Fuzz ask for it (uh...every time we get in the car). I still sing his songs, and hear his voice clearly in my head:
"Big or little, short or shaggy, all dogs suffer with fleas."
"Quarter to 7. Breakfast will be served in the Marble Arch Room." (said in his warped version of an English accent)
If I think too hard, I start to sob while I'm belting out The Ruler of the Queen's Navee.
I never did get around to posting about his death, that occurred only an hour or so after my last post. There was much about it that was surreal, and yet so real.
My mom and I were sitting at the kitchen table. She was listening to some of her old favorites on her iTunes. We rocked out to the Time Warp a little, then she played some Jacques Brel, and then some Elvis, which was when I noticed that Uncle G was moaning slightly.