At least the people at my job are cool and don't pull that stuff. Poor B works at a technical company, where communication skills are not always evident. He dreads seeing people he barely knows, who keep asking, "How are you feeling, really?" or telling him he will get over it in time. He has been telling people things like " I am very sad that my son died." One hopes this painfully obvious statement will satisfy both the grief vultures and the caring but awkward acquaintances.
We went to visit a friend of B's who is in the hospital. I feel more keenly the need to do these things since so many people have been truly kind to us. I took about seven plants over to the local Alzheimer's care center. I was happy that they were glad to take them, because so many plants were too much for me.
A's foot is healing nicely. He is limping instead of hopping. He commented at breakfast, "I'm so glad so many people came to the funeral." One of the few comments he has made.
gurdonark is running a fun meme, but I can't seem to bring myself to participate. I feel rather like Miss Bates in Emma, who can only offer "three very dull things, indeed."
I looked through W's school binder this morning and found that he had progress reports from almost every class in his binder. Even though I had asked for these repeatedly, he kept telling me he didn't have any. That little rat! I also found an autobiography he wrote in 4th grade. His dream job at that point: hacker for the Pentagon. His description of me: "My mom is very large with green eyes and brown-black." (I assume he meant hair; he never finished the sentence).