What I'm wittering on about is that it meant a lot, and I really appreciate the words and sentiments sent flying through cyberspace in this hippie's direction.
Dad's funeral was yesterday. I thought my heart was going to break at so many stages in the day. When the funeral cars arrived was horrific, waiting to go in the church was harrowing, and so it went on.
The church was totally full which, while overwhelming, also felt nice. Like a testament that Dad definitely was a Good Guy ;-)
It hurt so much, I never thought I would get through the service and the burial in one piece. I was fairly stunned afterwards, because I realised that as far as I had been concerned, everything stopped at the funeral. I wasn't prepared for anything else because I hadn't been able to think beyond it.
I had to hide for a while, with Z, before going onto the wake because the number of people there, and the number who wanted to talk to me, was blowing my mind. A few cigarettes later we approached the venue and I was so touched at who was there, as in the Church I had had no idea (beyond the fact that there were lots of people) about who was in the congregation.
It was hard, so hard. It was exhausting, draining, devastating, and yet also nice that so many people cared.
I have barely moved today. My whole body is reacting to the stress, the trauma and also the relief that that bit, at least, is over.
I really miss him.
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Technorati tags: grief; incurable_hippie.
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1 comments:
When my mother died a few years ago it was the time after the funeral that I found hardest. Everyone has said their bit. But all that's left is that gap.
Look after yourself as well as you possibly can!
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