He went in his sleep. Thank God for that. I really cared for him. He was a quiet man, but he ALWAYS stopped to talk to baby and me, and we always looked out for him. We never passed each other with just a "Hi how are you?", unlike with most other neighbors.
This morning, a lot feels amiss. Nothing feels right. When he was going, suddenly, a strong urge rose to see him one last time, to touch his feet - something i had never done(because i was a daughter and daughters don't touch feet) .
Sharing grief is supposed to help.