Over a cup of tea, my sister pointed out that my dates are off. (My days are correct, though.) Another example of my failing brain? Maybe just a sign that I’m tired and still grieving and have little use for dates. More likely that I simply mixed up the dates my parents passed, swapping one for the other. This gives me two more days to remember my dad as he was, to celebrate those last laughs, to be grateful that the end of his life wasn’t lost in the fog of dementia that enveloped my mom. I had to remind myself that everything I wrote today, felt today, is fully valid. I didn’t need to rewrite my blog (my first thought). I had already labeled this week as a week of mourning. My sister gave me the gift of two more days.