I lived to tell about it. I cried just a little bit, and we both laughed at my crying, I kept saying "I just can't HELP it!" Our crazy neighbor joined the show, bringing cigars, taking photos, laying hands on Brian's shoulders for a whirlwind prayer, and tucking a card with the patron saint of something or 'nuther into Brian's coat pocket. "Look here," he said, "He's stomping on the devil's head."
He was, at least, a distraction, and a source of jocularity.
So. Ok. He's off! We are both, on this day, on our own for the first times in our lives.