Sunday, September 28, 2008

The Looking-Glass Room

    "She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass was beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist...In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room...Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest was a different as possible."

    Through the Looking Glass (And What Alice Found There)
    Lewis Carroll
That's been my life since Monday - common, but as different as possible. One minute we're joking and laughing, the next crying inconsolably. The crying usually comes when I realize that he's gone, the laughing when we think of a good time or funny memory.

The hard moments are when I go to ask Dad about something, where does he keep the flags, or did he remember to tivo the new Grey's Anatomy? And then I realize that there's no one to ask.

The service was lovely - you should have seen how many people turned out - people he knew from work, people from his transplant team and support group, tons of friends and family. I can only hope to be that lucky when it's my turn.

We've taken care of all the mundane and horrible things that need to be done, the autopsy, the services, the cremation, the "final resting place". It's sort of like trying to put together a wedding in three days, only you can't concentrate because your brain isn't working right and you're crying all the time.

There is a bit of good news, if it can be considered good news, his transplant team decided to request an autopsy. His passing was not due to his transplant, the heart was as good as it could have been - it was a pulmonary embolism. So perhaps September 22 was the number no matter what. I guess the good news is that I can stop being mad at the transplant team now - and just go on being mad at the universe.

As much as I needed to see my family, hug my Mom, kiss my Nieces, cry with my Sister and Brother-in-Law and sit with my Uncles and Aunts - I now need to go home. I need to get back to my house, where the pain is less real and somehow softer. I need to get away from the bickering (I don't care if we order a vegetable platter for the wake), the decision making (I really don't care if my Dad is in a bronze box or a marble box - what I really want is to not have to put him in a box) and the tears of others. I need my time to grieve and see how truly deep the wound is and how, if it's possible, to heal it.

I'm pondering taking on NaBloPoMo for October, just as a way to keep my mind busy - but I haven't committed to it yet. In other odd/interesting news, my Mom wants us to take his car (both of ours are old and getting a bit out of shape - and she doesn't really want to deal with it), so we may be driving across country in a day or two. That's gonna be one wild ride!

And thank you all (my legion of devoted readers) for your kind thoughts. Friends make anything easier to bear.

Current Music: The Funeral - Band of Horses


Lori said...

Glad to hear your hanging in there. Hopefully time will make it all easier to accept.

Nilsa S. said...

You have a very level-headed perspective of the past few days. I hope, when you get home, you give yourself a chance to really mourn in whatever way works best for you.

Anonymous said...

keep hanging in there, girl!

for a different kind of girl said...

Stay as strong as you can, and as safe as possible for your return home. My thoughts remain with you.

kimmyk said...

Aww...hugs girlie.

Saying goodbye and making arrangements is never easy, but I agree...sometimes it takes just getting home to help heal.

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