I couldn't sleep last night. I was exhausted, a wee bit drunk and even with a sleeping aid, just couldn't shut off my head. I seem to be well on my way to another sleepless night. I wish there was a switch you could throw that would turn the spinning throughts in my brain to dust.
Today we made the arrangements for my dad. It was surreal talking about his life to come up with the perfect obituary. How do you sum up someones life in such a short space? Choosing a casket is such an odd thing to do. The casket showroom is eerie and has such a used car lot feel to it, in my opinion. We picked our model of casket and color and I half expected the guy to say that he would have it washed and gassed up for us before we drive it off the lot. Oh, don't get me wrong, the funeral home person was great. It is just the experience. So, I guess we have the bones of the service and visitation together, the obituary sent off to the paper for tomorrow's edition and daddy's final outfit for burial. It is all so weird and I felt so disconnected from it. The afternoon was spent making phone calls, accepting visitors bringing gifts of food to the house and answering calls. The medical equipment company came by and picked up all the tools of caring for my dad. They whisked off with the wheelchair, hospital bed, walker, oxygen units and other supplies. It was like erasing that my dad was sick. We moved the furniture back in place now that we don't have to maneuver a wheelchair through the house. All is like it was, except my daddy isn't here.
Tomorrow we will meet with the preacher and nail down the service details and gear up for the difficult days of visitation and funeral service. It is crazy how you just walk through this stuff on auto pilot. I don't give a fuck about his casket, his wardrobe, his obituary. What I care about is my own broken heart, the broken hearts of his wife and his nephew. The desire to see him when you know you can't is overwhelming. You smile and make choices and just get through it when all you want to do is wail, rend your clothes, tear your hair and lie of the floor kicking and screaming like a toddler. I want to climb on the roof and scream to the world that my dad has died and how dare the world continue like this is not the great catastophe that it is. You can't do that, though, so you put on the brave face and continue going throught the motions.