My wife recently lost her father. Nice guy. Bit of a racist right-wing gun nut, but frequently forgot that he was a conservative and espoused radical ideas like “who cares who someone marries?” (I think) just to freak me out.
Being the senior son-in-law, a lot of the funeral stuff ended up in my lap. I had to arrange the memorial service, take care of a TON of paperwork (who knew dying had so many fucking forms!), set up the wake, and be sort of an “emcee of death” for the family. It was exhausting, but of course not nearly as awful as it was for my wife and her mom & sisters.
The final gathering of family members petered out around 2AM. My sisters in law both stayed in their mom’s home, but my wife and I went back to our hotel. I wasn’t expecting- or even thinking about- sex that night, but after about half an hour of hugging “spoon-fashion,” she rolled over and started kissing me, crying the whole time. A few minutes later, she started scooting down the bed, kissing my chest and stomach along the way.