Wednesday, March 5, 2014
I'm not titanium...
My dad died last week.
Mostly, I feel as though I’ve barely been hanging on.
Much of the time I’m not hanging on.
Together with my younger brother and sister, we played 'Titanium' hundreds of times in an attempt to toughen up and not break while doing our speech at the funeral. I heard my voice crack once; but I sucked it back; dragged it in and got it together. We each held strong until the end; but there was no way the flood gates weren’t going to open when the lone piper came into the chapel and followed my dad’s coffin out.
My dad is a retired policeman. The turnout of retired ‘blue’ was impressive, considering his send-off was 25 years ago or so. The retired police association spoke and his coffin was draped in the Australian flag with an officer’s cap atop.
They say there are five stages of grief. When I research it, this is applicable to the end of a relationship also; so I guess I’m experiencing a double whammy. I believe I’m hovering on “anger”. This is backed up by the fact that I wanted to pull over, grab my samurai sword from the boot and take someone’s head off when they cut me off the other day.
You may be wondering if me driving around with a sword is a weird little uniqueness in my personality… It’s not. My dad knew me well; better than most. He left guns for the boys; but a beautiful samurai sword for me. No girly shit coming my way!
When anger dips away, I just feel alone. I’d feel alone if I was standing in a room of people.’ Let’s face it… I am alone.
The funeral is supposed to help with acceptance. It hasn’t. I feel as though I'll see him tomorrow; could pick up the phone and ask his advice in a heartbeat.
I have three ex-husbands. One attended the funeral; the other two sent messages; even the one who I basically wish a pox on (he treated my two oldest children so badly.) I didn’t get anything from the Moodle; I didn’t get one text message from him or one member of his family or any of his friends.
We didn’t end badly, we just ended – and yet such blatant rudeness and lack of care only manages to drive home the differences between him and his; and me and mine.
Posted by Mistress at 4:23 PM