Day Six (01-22-34 LE)

It’s been six days since Dad died. I don’t even bother using Ship’s Day anymore. I feel like I’m a walking ghost, like this can’t be real. Is everyone so detached when they suffer such a deep loss? Dad always goes—went—to the Twenty-Third Psalm when stuff like this happened. Psalms practically fell out of his Bible after the whole recycling ordeal.

I’m worried about Mother. All she’s been doing has been crying and sleeping. The Captain stops by every once in a while to check in on us.

Now Backyard Bob’s in a coma. He’s one of my closest companions, especially now that Dad’s dead. I’m sure he was right, there is something going on. I swear, his gut feelings are always right. His intuition is sharper even than his sense of wit. I already miss his groan-inducing puns.

The Captain said that he kept saying that the answer was inside of him or something. He asked me if it meant anything, but Bob never said anything of the sort. Knowing him, there is meaning in there…why can’t I see it?