The Funeral
The feelings with my father's death and the events leading up to it were very confusing. At that moment we had our business up for sale which we were delivered an ultimatum to push the deal through quickly or he'll leave. Yet when it all happened, everything was put on hold. Yet a lot of things had to be done quickly. Perhaps not quickly, but it only goes to show that no matter what happens, anything that needs to be done seems all to quick when you were mourning.
In some ways that week between his death and the funeral was possibly the longest week I've ever had. Not so much all the stuff that had to happen, but the yearning for some sort of finality, some closure to the entire ordeal and that was the funeral. It wasn't because I wanted my father gone, buried (or in this case cremated). It wasn't because I wanted to see people to come to the funeral and bear some of the grief. I just wanted the whole thing to be over because it was a cloud over my head and a weight in my heart. It's like life couldn't continue until after the funeral.
There isn't much to say about the funeral. It was a nice service. When we actually walked it, I felt alone with my family. Despite having people there, I didn't have much heart to look at anyone to see who came. The first and only person I saw was Mike and even though it wasn't hard to look at him, something drew my head down. I couldn't look at him. I really couldn't look at anyone.
The Pastor's talk was great. It was a speech that could have lifted up your spirits if only to make you feel only slightly less sad. It wasn't by no means the best thing since we are not a Church attending family, the message cannot be specifically applied to my dad, but it was certainly something worthwhile to hear.
My cousin did the euology well enough. I imagine it was hard enough for him to do it on such short notice. I said some part words in which I nearly lost my composure at the end, blurting out the last word. I don't really know what caused me to feel so nervous, I was never good at speaking in front of an audience or doing presentations, but I suppose the words I had to say didn't sound as eloquent as it did in my head. Perhaps I have to take a toastmasters course. But it wasn't hard as so much a thing to do, that I felt I had to do to tell somebody, anybody about my dad and what he meant to us.
I tried to keep in mind some of the things the pastor suggested, many hint in how to talk to everyone. And yet the only thing I remembered is to look up occasionally at 3 points at the back of the Church and now have my head down all the time. I did look at someone straight in the eye but I don't even remember who it was anymore.
We walked to the legion hall. My brother congratulated me on a good job with the speech. I thought he was joking but he was not. That made me feel a lot better.
The tea/reception afterwards seemed even worst to a certain degree. You met people and thanked them, not that I mind it. But it just seemed when you first opened the door; there are so much people to see, so many people to meet and a large task ahead. I don't know what to say to some of the people I talked to. There was a feeling of wanting to just end the night right there, instead of what seemed like dragging on a part of the funeral, or just wanting to stay there.
We went home and I got out of my clothes feeling I've been wearing them for days.
In some ways that week between his death and the funeral was possibly the longest week I've ever had. Not so much all the stuff that had to happen, but the yearning for some sort of finality, some closure to the entire ordeal and that was the funeral. It wasn't because I wanted my father gone, buried (or in this case cremated). It wasn't because I wanted to see people to come to the funeral and bear some of the grief. I just wanted the whole thing to be over because it was a cloud over my head and a weight in my heart. It's like life couldn't continue until after the funeral.
There isn't much to say about the funeral. It was a nice service. When we actually walked it, I felt alone with my family. Despite having people there, I didn't have much heart to look at anyone to see who came. The first and only person I saw was Mike and even though it wasn't hard to look at him, something drew my head down. I couldn't look at him. I really couldn't look at anyone.
The Pastor's talk was great. It was a speech that could have lifted up your spirits if only to make you feel only slightly less sad. It wasn't by no means the best thing since we are not a Church attending family, the message cannot be specifically applied to my dad, but it was certainly something worthwhile to hear.
My cousin did the euology well enough. I imagine it was hard enough for him to do it on such short notice. I said some part words in which I nearly lost my composure at the end, blurting out the last word. I don't really know what caused me to feel so nervous, I was never good at speaking in front of an audience or doing presentations, but I suppose the words I had to say didn't sound as eloquent as it did in my head. Perhaps I have to take a toastmasters course. But it wasn't hard as so much a thing to do, that I felt I had to do to tell somebody, anybody about my dad and what he meant to us.
I tried to keep in mind some of the things the pastor suggested, many hint in how to talk to everyone. And yet the only thing I remembered is to look up occasionally at 3 points at the back of the Church and now have my head down all the time. I did look at someone straight in the eye but I don't even remember who it was anymore.
We walked to the legion hall. My brother congratulated me on a good job with the speech. I thought he was joking but he was not. That made me feel a lot better.
The tea/reception afterwards seemed even worst to a certain degree. You met people and thanked them, not that I mind it. But it just seemed when you first opened the door; there are so much people to see, so many people to meet and a large task ahead. I don't know what to say to some of the people I talked to. There was a feeling of wanting to just end the night right there, instead of what seemed like dragging on a part of the funeral, or just wanting to stay there.
We went home and I got out of my clothes feeling I've been wearing them for days.
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