I don't know why it's taken me so long to come back here. I haven't blogged since I came back to Mountain View. The 49th day picnic was small with just my sister and I and my uncle and aunt. My dad was there, too, though we weren't sure he'd make it. I think the 49th day is supposed to be end of the period of intense grieving. Now your altar to the dead one gets smaller. You buy fewer flowers, burn less candles, put her photo in a smaller frame. I don't know yet if my sister is doing any of these things.

I know my grief has mellowed. I still think about her a lot. I still have my moments of quiet and reflection where I break down and sob, but just to myself. I don't let anyone else see that; it's a very private moment I'm having. I still have her photo. Still burn a flame.

Mom working hard in my dad's office, 1980s.

My dad and I came across this photo early on. He commented on how hard she always worked. She only ever thought of us.

This'll be the first non-grief entry since my mother died. I'm hoping there will be more of these after this one.

I was driving a new truck down Skyline Blvd, and I came less than a foot away from hitting a deer. I saw it on the other side of the road and started to slow down not really sure if it was going to bolt or not and if so in which direction. So I'm slowing down and the deer's sort of going in one direction, then another, then it bolts in front of me. I brake with all my might (the trucked performed excellently), and stopped the car just in time for the deer to run in front of it, practically brushing it's fur against the grille.

Now, relieved and impressed that I didn't kill the deer and the truck handled so well, I immediately hit and kill a raccoon. I didn't see it fast enough to even begin to react. You can't imagine my horror. I wanted to turn back - I know I probably didn't want to see it, but I was afraid it might still be alive and need help...I know, stupid. The truck is now known as the death mobile.