Mourning.

I got in late from church last night.

One of the men, before church, put out word that his father wasn't expected to live out the night. He was there alone, his wife and other family electing to stay on the death watch.

After the meeting was ended, we wound up together talking. Talking guns. He has a funny idea about using a .22 HMR against tank drivers. He also has a lovely new Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum revolver that keeps him company in the glove box. He reviewed some of the guerillas that have taken place (he's a student of underground resistance movements).

We talked about specifically not his dying father for almost an hour, and he was at least temporarily distracted from what he would be driving back to.

It's a sad job in a way and a pleasure in a way, but in both ways, I was happy to help.