Planning a funeral is legitimately difficult.
There are so many things you have to take into consideration. On the plus side, it hasn’t given me much time to be sad. I’ve never been to a funeral before, kind of ironic that the first one I’ll go to is my Dad’s. I feel like in a way having a closed casket makes it even more sad, people don’t get to see some tangible piece of him and have that closure. His body was pretty disturbingly disfigured, its something that will haunt me for a while, I wouldn’t wish that burden on anyone else. Better for them to remember him as he was, but still I feel that there’s a small disconnect when you stare at a closed coffin. Maybe since I’ve already seen him and have that closure I feel that way. It’s a weird way of existing. I’ve been refusing to talk to most people which I guess is why I’m venting via tumblr. I apologize to all of you for my emotions, I’ll bounce back eventually and this will all go back to normal. Or at least as normal as one can be given the circumstances.. I guess things will never really be the same.
Things you shouldn’t have to experience at a young age:
- Holding your Mom as she cries at the realization that she’s just become a widow.
- Seeing your Uncle, one of the bravest and strongest men you know, begin to weep as he says, “At least we got three extra years with him. Not that it matters much at this point.”
- Listening to your grandparents repeatedly say, “You shouldn’t have bury your children, they should bury you. I never wanted to see my son die.”
- Watching your aunt literally collapse upon hearing whats happened.
- Having your pregnant cousin, who has too much on her plate as it is, tearfully tell you she’ll take care of you from now on.
- Seeing your brother, who never shows any emotion beyond happiness and always picks you up when you need it, become an inconsolable mess.
Most of all, you shouldn’t have to experience looking at your fathers dead body as you desperately hold his cold hand, hoping to find some glimpse of the loving, joking, and wonderful man you once knew only to feel complete abandonment as you realize only an empty shell remains. One of the reasons why I exist today has been taken from me. His father is eighty four, my mother’s father is somewhere around ninety three. It is safe to say that my father was taken from my family too soon. This is truly the worst day of my life. It is the worst day in my brother’s lives. More than anything, it is the worst day in Mother’s life. She lost her partner of nearly thirty five years today. There is nothing else I can say that could possibly describe this pain. He suffered for so long. I sincerely hope none of you will ever have to see a loved one go through this.
Before my Dad crashed and had to be revived by doctors and put on machines he showed me this. He was going through his wallet and it happened to fall out. He explained to me that because he and my Mom lived in separate countries when their marriage was arranged she had taken these photos and had them sent to him so he would know what she looked like. He then told me that for almost thirty five years he has never stopped carrying this photo on him.
My Dad is currently being kept alive by machines and my Mom hasn’t eaten or slept since last Thursday. My Dad is in the unit where my Mom works so everyone knows her there and treats her like family. She’s really falling apart but its nice to know that all these nurses are looking out for her as much as they are looking out for my Dad. They wrote this in my Dad’s room to let my Mom know how much they care.
One balloon lain carefully on quiet, crooked stairs
ensnares attention from the tenant who had never placed it there.
He dials numbers that he’s made up in his head to pass the time
he dials 911 to confess all his uncommitted crimes.
What’s inside of the closet and under the bed, in the mirror, in the dark, is inside of your ____.
He traces lines along his leg to place his finger in the wound.
He digs in deep and whispers ‘sorry’ to the shadows in the room.
They take apologies and gut them for parts.
They take our bodies over and use all but the heart.
What’s inside of the closet and under the bed, in the mirror, in the dark, is inside of your ____.
