Having the oddly surreal experience of sitting all alone cycling through stages of grief. I keep double-checking the picture, "Its a big firm! Maybe its another Ivan!"

Its always sudden, of course, but I was chatting with him on Tuesday. Nothing was wrong. He was my ageish or even a little younger... I'm half-Anya here - its stupid.

its stupid.

It is.

{{{Trudy}}} I guess you can't bring the daughters a casserole, is there someone else you can feed in Ivan's honor? Doing something, especially for someone else, can help with the getting through it