pavlovsdog

It's been two weeks since my father passed away. One thing I forgot to mention in my last post was how strange the weather was on the day he died. It was sunny and warm in the morning, then that afternoon a cold front passed through bringing colder temperatures, stormy weather and even a little thunder. It was really a big change. I like to imagine that the cold front came in a swept him up in it's travel across the land. Perhaps he's still there riding the crest of that cold front from state to state. The thought makes me strangely happy.
The visitation was two Saturdays ago. It felt good to see how many people knew and cared for my dad. He touched a lot of people. My family held it together well. The saddest part for me was seeing the urn which held his ashes. My dad was cremated. A strange side note: The funeral director used a strange term for the ashes, he called them "cremains", like a contraction of "cremated remains". I'm not sure if this is a technical term used in the business, but it struck me as a bit odd, almost as a joke. Anyway back to the story, there was a small wooden box, about 1'x1' which held the "cremains" of my father, and I thought how interesting it was that there was once this 5'10" , 175lb man who now occupied about a cubic foot of space. "To what base uses we may return, Horatio!" Also the music which my sister picked out for the visitation made me choke up a little. They were all songs he loved, but were also appropriate for the somber mood. Willie Nelson, Leonard Cohen, Mozart, my dad had an eclectic taste in music.
The service was nice. It was held at the graveside on Sunday. I found it curious that my mom chose to buy a plot for my dad and her, even though she wants to be cremated as well. Why bury a box with ashes? I guess it gives people somewhere to go, and they get their own little monument that lets the world know they were once here. It was a really nice day, sunny and pleasant. The minister was from Hospice and even though she didn't know him well, she delivered a nice eulogy. She talked about the love he had for his family and friends, urging us to keep his memory with us always. I read a piece from Hamlet. My sister wrote a narrative about one of her fond memories of him from childhood. My girlfriend Rae sung a few songs. Then the Fire Department honor guard did a little ceremony for him, which included a ringing of a bell seven times, which represented when a fireman's "shift" was over. It was touching.
I'm doing alright. I think people are a little puzzled about how well I'm taking it. They want to help me. What many people don't know, or understand is that I did my mourning over that year and a half in which he was sick. Now that he has passed away, I can let all that stress and grief go, because I know he isn't hurting anymore. I thank people for their concern, but I'm not going to break down and cry on their shoulder. I am glad they are there though if I ever needed to.
Another interesting observation is that all the sympathy cards are green. I guess it's a soothing color, and is good for somber occasions.
What I'm afraid of most is that I'll forget him. I know that's a ridiculous notion, but I'm afraid that now he's gone I'll somehow think of him less and less as the days go by. I'm afraid someday I'll realize that I haven't thought about him for a day, then a week, then a month, then a year. I hope that doesn't happen. Perhaps when another cold frond passes quickly through, I can take cover and think of my dad up there riding it.