Flat.

The details are now coming to light and it's, well I don't know what word to use.  Not entirely sure how I feel, flat is probably the best descriptive word.  Rye has been lovely, keeps asking if I'm still sad about Peter, along with asking if he's opened his eyes yet.  I was trying to get him to understand the finiteness of death, but then, he doens't really need to understand, does he, so I just leave it with, "No, darling, he won't ever open his eyes now."   And leave it at that because even that Rye isn't really grasping.

This morning when Rye woke up, he came downstairs and climbed onto my lap to give me a cuddle and ask if I was happy today.  I explained that I will be sad for quite a while yet, and he seems to grasp that's because of Peter.  It's kinda like the past few days Rye has suddenly matured quite a bit; he's been very helpful and showing much empathy - and not just occupied with his own little world, as little kids are wont to be. 

Its been very comforting to snuggle up to his warm little body and hold the next generation, as it were, life goes on, it is going on, and Rye is next generation of our family; along with the Kevin's kids and Richard's, now grown up, son.  

Goodbye, Peter, watch out for mum, she's bound to give you an arse kicking.