Thanbks to all of you for your kind and comforting words. I wrote his eulogy last night and it made me recall how some of the most angering and frustrating things he did as a child become the cherished memories. Like the time he got up early and spread butter across everything in the livingroom at about two feet off the floor, including the TV screen, walls, curtains and furniture. That became "The Butterworm" story and was retold many times...
For now I'm trying to keep busy enough that I don't have a lot of time to just sit and think about things too much. Perhaps the Walther will become a cherished part of my collection at some point or maybe I'll have grandkids one day to whom it can be passed on to. I know that my son had just received his own CCW permit a few months back, at least he picked something decent to carry.