I am left with the sad task of going to NYC in the morning to begin a weekend that will end with the burial of my father. The whole thing is surreal. I still have not been able to hug and comfort my mother or sister, and Jacqui, Sophia, Otis and I feel a little lonely here in Philadelphia.
And poor Otis. He and my dad had a very special relationship. Otis loved seeing my dad. When he would visit, Otis would charge him with a big doggie smile. And my dad, who at first wouldn’t touch Otis without then running to a sink to scrub his hands, eventually was mush in Otis’s paws, rubbing his belly, and even getting on the floor to play with him (which itself was a miracle given my dad’s schtick around germs). Otis won’t be able to come to the funeral, but at some point later on he and I will make the trip up to the family plot so Otis can pay his last respects by playing catch near his grave.