So, Friday, yeah, no, not going there in detail - save for the fact it was sad but we laughed - particularly when the funeral director had to admit he'd forgotten to put the cd we'd burnt of music for the funeral into the car and had to run back to the office for it - thankfully we were the last funeral of the day so it didn't matter that we started 20 minutes late .... and that was just typical for dad, who frequently left home at the time he was meant to arrive at his destination.
My friends who I left the dogs with (and stayed with Friday night) were just wonderful... not only did they look after me and the dogs - including bathing all four of them which was above and beyond anything I'd expected - but they made sure that I had time to myself if I needed and lots of hugs.
I got home Saturday lunch time - and spent most of the afternoon asleep on the sofa - whilst a 400 mile round trip in 24 hours is physically draIining, the emotional cost got to me as well. I am still feeling kind of absent at the moment and can't really connect with much.
This afternoon has been difficult. I knew it would be. You see, most Sunday afternoons - particularly on a Grand Prix weekend, about this time, the phone would ring and dad and I would have a nice long talk about life, the universe and everything. I have the phone next to me on the table as I am typing this and part of me still expects it to ring any minute.... rationally I know it won't.... but I'd give anything just to hear his voice again.
I am also drinking my diet coke out of a pint glass from Preston Beer Festival 2000 - which dad and I went to with my best friend. I have several pint glasses from different beer festivals from about 1998 to 2007, whenever dad came to visit, he tried to tie it in with a beer festival. It was always amusing to go to one with him - it was the only place where I ever had difficulty spotting him in a crowded room and for some reason there were always a lot of middle aged, large, bearded men at these things.
It's the little things that seem to hit the hardest at the moment. I boiled a pan of water on the stove this morning (not replaced the exploded kettle from Thursday yet) and put the water into my thermos - which was the present he gave me last Christmas... and will now always be the last Christmas present he gave me. It's difficult to pour boiling water from a pan to a thermos when you can't see for tears.
I know there is no timetable for grieving, but with his spirit and now his body gone I kind of feel in limbo. I know it will get easier, that time will numb the feelings but won't destroy the memories, and I know that there are going to be huge landmines around special occasions when dad would have been there, but knowing all this doesn't actually make it easier.
Tomorrow I return to work - my so called holiday last week really didn't feel much like one at all. Part of me wants to go back to work - I can hide in it and not think - part of me also knows that's really not emotionally healthy, but I think it comes back to coping - which is about as best as I can do for now.
Meh, sorry, these posts are rambly and probably make very little sense, but it's my blog and reflects part of my life - and sometimes those parts can't be all fun, critters and books.
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