Uh oh...

... almost 2:15 a.m. and I'm still sitting here at my desk.  (Having chocolate at 1:30 a.m. couldn't have helped.)  So many "first time without Jerry" hurdles jumped this weekend, ending with the trip home from the airport - shuttle to parking lot, home in the Sienna, into the house (why the garage door opener on the wall of the garage decided to stop working, I don't know - glad the one in the car was still working.  To be investigated...).  Lots of little rituals no longer to be done: every time we came home from a singing, I'd say "I've done it again - I've gone home with the cutest guy at the singing!  Lucky me!" To which, always, Jerry would say "No, lucky me!"  (We couldn't help ourselves... )  And we'd write the songs we'd led in the backs of our books (I picked up that habit from him, I think.  The back of his book contains a comprehensive list of every song he led, from 142 in March 1989 at a local Chicago singing to 378t with me and Lynne at the Lacy Memorial last year).  And we'd have a little ice cream or other dessert, and if Jerry was feeling too awake and overexcited from the trip to get to sleep, he'd sip some vodka or aquavit or something like that out of one of the small glasses I got in Warsaw 100 years ago in another lifetime, to help him doze off in enough time to get enough sleep to get up for work the next morning.

Life can change so, so fast.  I knew that, intellectually - but until it did, so much for the worse, I didn't really understand.

The weekend was one of such sorrow and grief, and such comfort, too.  More on that later.  Go to sleep, Freund.