I'm not really in mourning because for the past six years, I've had the same five minutes with him. It doesn't really bother me; it doesn't change the fact he was one of the nicest, gentlest men I've ever met in my life, with a carefully understated sense of humor.
It is, however, literally killing the rest of the Walters.
Two days ago my grandmother had a heart attack (minor, she's fine and back home, although disappointed this means our trip North to the Casino Where I Can Gamble has been canceled) and last night my aunt discovered some sort of infection (somewhat less minor, she's on pills and sleeps a lot and makes me wash her sheets and make her bed).
Who wants to take bets on what I come down with?