The morning is passing quicker than I want it too. 1:00 is coming so fast. I don’t want it to come. I don’t want it to get to that hour. That hour when I have to go into a room and say good bye to him. That hour when I have to try to be strong so that my babies don’t fall apart, knowing I just don’t have that strength in me. That hour when my brother will give a heartfelt eulogy that is a truly amazing testament to the man’s impact on all our lives. That hour when songs will be played and words will be spoken that will tear at my heart. That hour when we are supposed to be celebrating his life, but I know myself well enough to know that I will be crying. I will be sad.
That hour is only three and a half hours away now. There is much to attend too, many things that need to be done… things that will distract my mind from it’s sadness. Things that will keep my hands busy and things that will keep the tears from falling. But, they are also things that will bring me to that hour quicker.
I know that he doesn’t want us to be sad. And, honestly I don’t think I’m crying as much for him as I am for the scary dose of my own mortality. Crying for the brevity of life, even a long life, well lived is too short. It leaves too much undone, too many behind with nothing but memories and in my case, tears they are trying hard not to shed.
I am dreading 1:00. Dreading it for wholly selfish reasons and I wonder about the kind of person that makes me. What kind of person dreads something as much a part of life as a funeral? What kind of person selfishly wants to just get in their car and drive as far away as possible just to avoid it? I should want to celebrate his life with my family. I should want to be there to show my love and my support to all the others who are sharing in this loss. But to do so forces me to face that he is truly gone. That there is no more time to visit. No more chances to laugh. But, even more than that it forces me to face the fact that he will not be the last person I lose. This will not be the last time I feel this kind of hurt and even this dread of closure. These are selfish thoughts. I make no apology for that.
I know he is in a better place. I know he isn’t sick or hurting or weak anymore. I know that we do not mourn for the deceased, but instead mourn for our own loss. We are the ones left alive and awake with a hole in our lives the perfect size and shape of the one who passed. Even knowing all of these things, I am sad. And, while I am happy that he is not hurting, that he is not sick and that he’s up in heaven dancing and rejoicing, the sadness overwhelms all of that right now and for the moment the sadness is winning.