This weekend I actually went out in public. I didn’t want to, but everyone wanted to be somewhere other than here. I saw people I knew, who asked me “how are you doing” – – all well-meaning, I’m sure.
And the fact is, I don’t know how I’m doing. I took off today and tomorrow from work. Obviously, since the funeral is tomorrow. I really should take off Wednesday, too, but there’s only so much time I’m willing for a substitute to take over my teaching.
Saturday I saw a friend and we talked for quite a bit. She told me I needed to find some time to grieve, but I can’t yet; not really. Everyone is taking it hard and looking to me to stay strong because I can compartmentalize my emotions. I don’t think they realize what this means for me and does to me. I want to weep but I can’t because if I do, then everyone else is sure to lose it. They’ve said as much. I wait until everyone is asleep and tell myself that now it’s OK to get it all out, but after hours upon hours of stifling it, all I get is a worse headache.
Someone mentioned therapy, or maybe I dreamed it. I don’t need therapy. I don’t think so, anyway. I just miss my friend.
I’m planning the book I can now write, now that this has happened. He made me promise him I’d wait, you see. I’ve plotted four sections and know what I want to do. We’ll see what comes of it. I don’t care if anyone buys it; I just want one copy so that he isn’t forgotten.
Today I’m finishing the memorial dvd; work is letting me borrow a portable screen. I’m going to wait until lunchtime so I don’t have to see anyone.
Yesterday the director said they’d confirmed an honor guard but weren’t sure about the firing detail. Seriously? A 98-year old veteran, a survivor of both Pearl Harbor and D-Day, and the Navy can’t guarantee a firing detail? He was a simple man who lived a simple if extraordinary life and always refused any fuss. This is the only thing we can ever remember him asking specifically for himself. If it doesn’t happen . . .
I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s not as if there’s anything anyone can do about it.
But while I didn’t want to talk on Saturday, it feels good to get it out today.
Thanks for listening.
Will you be there tomorrow, at least in spirit? Please.
In life we cry when the night comes but remember to wipe the tears so we can see the stars.
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Will be thinking of you tomorrow. Count on it.
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🙂
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get the closest base chaplain involved. he will get an honor guard rifle team there. There’s usually a chaplain at the VA too, so try there. He deserves the honors.
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We in fact, we have TWO bases near us and have contacted them both.
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You will certainly be in my thoughts and prayers tomorrow. Grieving is a life-process and we all do it differently. You will shed your tears when you are ready. Be loving toward yourself for now – says a former Hospice chaplain.
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