While today (Monday) was a day, it wasn’t “better”.

I took Dwayne to pick up Tory’s personal effects from the parish coroner’s office. And retrieve his car. We got Dwayne on the road and headed back to Arkansas. Back home. Which is where he wanted to be. Be it what that is at the moment. All of that hurt, and I know I broke down in tears several times.

And while I personally feel we should have taken Dwayne home, he was firm about needing time. Which I understand. But I still don’t like the thought of him being alone so soon.

Dwayne’s parents are meeting him at home and will stay with him tonight. And hopefully the next few days as well.

I’ve been fielding telephone calls and Facebook messages all day long from people inquiring about the situation. Even from people I don’t know but found me somehow. Each time I have to tell the story I still cry and hurt.

We still don’t know what the funeral arrangements are as of yet. Tory’s mother is making those as Tory didn’t have a Will. So we are up in the air as to when and what will happen in that regard. Which is an entirely different blog post I’m going to write.

The Husbear and I are hunkering down in New Orleans, preparing to ride out Hurricane Isaac. The hotel we were in–and supposed to be in for the next week–closed this morning to prepare for the hurricane. Which sent us scrambling to find another hotel. Which we did. Yes, we’re crazy. Or the Husbear is at least. I grew up with hurricanes in Florida as a child and I’m not a fan of any inclement weather, so I would rather not be here. But that’s what it is.

I might have had a few too many beers tonight. At Cafe Lafitte’s in Exile. Because I had nothing else to do in NOLA, and the bar staff is nice. Plus it dulls the pain I feel.