Today would have been my inlaws 37th wedding anniversary.
It's just so fucking unfair. Which, I know. Life is pain, Highness. But it is. It's unfair, and it's not right, and it pisses me off.
I've spent a lot of time in anger lately... anger and frustration. I feel like I haven't actually gotten around to the grief part of grieving. I'm spending way too much time in anger and frustration and disbelief to have the time to actually go there.
And it's not like it has been at other times, times when I purposely pushed the grief away because I had to get through speaking at the funeral, or something like that. I've cried with the rest of my family as we've mourned together. And I know that it's unlikely that there's a perfect moment of catharsis waiting for me, where I'll break down in tears, and when I'm done, I'll be finished, and I can move on and forward. But I still feel... stuck. Like I'm unprocessed. And I don't like it, because he deserves more than that. Which brings me back around to pissed off again.
They married at 19 and 21, the same as the Academic Husband and I did. Along with my parents (married at 19 and 22), they were my example that it was possible to meet and marry young, and not have it be an incredibly bad idea. Not for everyone, for sure. Not for most people. But if you've got the right people, and the right personalities, and you were willing to work at it, you could make it work.
Some couples who've been together as long as they have, you can see how much they love each other. It's just clear as day. They were different. Thirty-seven years later, they were still in love with each other. He'd light up when my mother in law came home from work, delighted to see her. They'd take turns cooking dinner, and even still, the other would walk into the kitchen and ask how they could help--and they meant it too. They were partners, they were lovers, they were best friends. And it's just so fucking unfair it makes me want to scream.
And I'm angry. I've been angry since the funeral home, really. I was angry that they didn't have him ready to view when we got there, and tried to tell us to come back for that the next day. Um, no. We called ahead the day before, the doctor called ahead too, we said we wanted to come that day, and we're gonna just sit right here while you go and do what you have to do. We can wait.
Actually, the whole funeral home thing pissed me off. I spent the whole time trying not to yell at someone. I'm not very good at funeral homes to begin with. I'm not good with bodies. It's not a gross out thing, it's... okay.
Personal opinion time. Other people's opinions obviously vary, and THAT IS OKAY. This is my opinion, for me.
When a person isn't in their body anymore, I don't have any connection to the body anymore. For me, they're not there. That's not them. The part of them that makes them who they were, it's gone. I believe in the soul, and that's the part I focus on, once the person has died. I feel more connection to my father in law at the house he built, sitting out in the yard, imagining him playing with the grandkids than I did in a room with what's physically left of him here on Earth.
Every funeral I went to growing up was always a memorial--generally cremation--and the focus on the physical just wasn't there. It's what I got used to. The Academic Husband's family are old school German on one side, old school Norwegian on the other, and they bury their dead, for the most part (although my father in law was, in the end, cremated). So it's what they're used to, and what's normal for them. It's what they need to say goodbye. It's particularly what the four of them who were there the night he died needed, since their last image of him wasn't a peaceful one. They needed a memory of him in passing that was gentler, not so connected to the shock and immediacy of his death. And I get that too, and I respect it.
But for me... I just stood in that room, tears on my cheeks, watching his wife and sons and daughter as they cried and begged him to come back, as they touched his hands and leaned against his chest and held on, and I just... this stupid voice in the back of my head just kept repeating over and over and over again... that's not him. That's not my father in law. He's not here any more, and I miss him so much, but that isn't him anymore. I felt guilty for thinking that way, for the lack of connection I had to the body of my father in law. Probably, I shouldn't have gone in, but I couldn't stay outside while everyone else went in. I wanted to be there for them, for all of them, but especially the Academic Husband, and I didn't want to offend my mother in law or make her think that I was grossed out or something. Because it's not that, it's not that at all. It just... to me, for me, that's not him. Not anymore.
So. End tangent. That part was hard for me, but not so hard that I'm sorry I was there. It just didn't give me the closure I'm still seeking, the catharsis of grief that still feels stuck.
And I got mad at the funeral director. The business of death... it just outright pisses me off a lot of the time, I have to admit, and that's probably not fair. Everyone has to make a living, right? But it just... it felt manipulative to me. There's a checklist, and you go through from front to end, and you decide what you want to have, and then at the very end, and only then, do they tell you what things cost. And what, are you going to question it then? Are you going to go I beg your pardon, those two bouquets of flowers that I just bought are almost $350.00 dollars? Uh, I don't think so, let's dial that back a notch. No. No you are not, because you're grieving, and you just want it planned and over with, and what's wrong with you, is he not worth $350.00 in flowers? So, you go with it. But I just... calm face, quiet words, seething inside of my brain.
All of the Academic Husband's grandparents were buried, on both sides, so I was kind of surprised to find out that my father in law'd directed that he would be cremated. If it had been her choice, I don't think it's what my mother in law would have wanted, but it was his choice, and she respected his wishes. Still, she wanted to have the casket at church, even though it would have to be closed, since it would be almost a week between his death, and the service, and it's summer, and if you're not being buried, they don't treat the body, so, an open casket is not really an option.
They rent caskets. More things I didn't know, what with my family being the cremation type. The one that they use for rental has a purchase price of $2500.00. The rental cost? Over $500.00. 1/5 the purchase price. Now, I get that with the physical realities of putting a person in the casket and all, they'd have to do things like clean it and redo the lining and whatever. But. Still. Seriously? 1/5 the purchase price to rent it for an afternoon?
The part that's funny-not-funny is that I can just absolutely picture my father in law's voice at that price tag. "Five hundred bucks? UFF DA!" (Bonus points for anyone who knows and has heard 'uff da', because I bet it made you smile.) The same thing for the car that was to drive him to the church and drop him off, and pick him up again and take him back. Almost $300.00. I can just... completely imagine him. "Y'know... I've got a pick up truck, and four sons, counting my son in law. We'll just use that instead, okay?" There wasn't much to laugh at, but imagining that did make me smile.
So yeah. Business of death, the profit of death... it just... I know it's how it works. But I don't like it, and it made me really pissed off. He'd tell you that the memorial book was included, and then he'd tell you how much it cost, and it'd be $150.00 for something you could easily pickup at Hallmark. But it wasn't my place, so I shut the fuck up, bit my lip, and let other people make those decisions.
I got maddest because he just didn't seem to know when a good euphemism was in order. We were there on a Tuesday, and one of my sister in law's wasn't going to get into town until Thursday, and her husband wanted to know if there was any chance that my father in law would still be viewable by then. There are a few ways to answer that question. There is 'no', there's a 'I'm sorry, but it just isn't advisable after that many days'. He went with 'no, and [insert conversation with medical realities in fairly graphic WTFitude about exactly what and why we would not want to see him that many days here]'.
If I'd been standing behind him, I would have been making the Picard 'cut the mike' gesture to get him to stop. Yes, my brother in law is a doctor, and you know that. In this moment, that's not who he is. He's a son who just lost a father. He doesn't want to hear about the inevitable degradation of his father's body. Just tell him no, it's not possible. You're a goddamned funeral director. Are you telling me that you don't know a polite way to decline when it's in the family's best interest not to see their loved one? Seriously.
Apparently I have a lot of angsty feels about the whole funeral home thing. Who knew?
I'm tired. I'm tired, and I'm stressed, and work is a bitch (more pissedoffedness there, because people are being occasionally stupid and it's one of those like... you just get mad at how petty people can be, you know? There's big important stuff happening, and they're all so petty. And tiny. And I just want to tell people to shut up and stop being idiots. Which is not encouraged in the workplace), and the kids are acting out a lot because they're probably picking up on the stress, and they're missing him too.
And it fucking sucks.
Today would have been their 37th anniversary. They would have gone out, or stayed in, and exchanged beautiful disgustingly sappy cards, because that's what they did, and the next time we had a family dinner they would have teased everyone about getting up to naughty shenanigans and we would have all gone AUGH my ears, traumatized, and he would have blushed and just smiled, because that's what he did. He just rolled with everything, and loved my mother in law so goddamned much.
It's not fair. I'm still not okay. And I still feel like my grief has writers block.
I miss him.
I've spent a lot of time in anger lately... anger and frustration. I feel like I haven't actually gotten around to the grief part of grieving. I'm spending way too much time in anger and frustration and disbelief to have the time to actually go there.
And it's not like it has been at other times, times when I purposely pushed the grief away because I had to get through speaking at the funeral, or something like that. I've cried with the rest of my family as we've mourned together. And I know that it's unlikely that there's a perfect moment of catharsis waiting for me, where I'll break down in tears, and when I'm done, I'll be finished, and I can move on and forward. But I still feel... stuck. Like I'm unprocessed. And I don't like it, because he deserves more than that. Which brings me back around to pissed off again.
They married at 19 and 21, the same as the Academic Husband and I did. Along with my parents (married at 19 and 22), they were my example that it was possible to meet and marry young, and not have it be an incredibly bad idea. Not for everyone, for sure. Not for most people. But if you've got the right people, and the right personalities, and you were willing to work at it, you could make it work.
Some couples who've been together as long as they have, you can see how much they love each other. It's just clear as day. They were different. Thirty-seven years later, they were still in love with each other. He'd light up when my mother in law came home from work, delighted to see her. They'd take turns cooking dinner, and even still, the other would walk into the kitchen and ask how they could help--and they meant it too. They were partners, they were lovers, they were best friends. And it's just so fucking unfair it makes me want to scream.
And I'm angry. I've been angry since the funeral home, really. I was angry that they didn't have him ready to view when we got there, and tried to tell us to come back for that the next day. Um, no. We called ahead the day before, the doctor called ahead too, we said we wanted to come that day, and we're gonna just sit right here while you go and do what you have to do. We can wait.
Actually, the whole funeral home thing pissed me off. I spent the whole time trying not to yell at someone. I'm not very good at funeral homes to begin with. I'm not good with bodies. It's not a gross out thing, it's... okay.
Personal opinion time. Other people's opinions obviously vary, and THAT IS OKAY. This is my opinion, for me.
When a person isn't in their body anymore, I don't have any connection to the body anymore. For me, they're not there. That's not them. The part of them that makes them who they were, it's gone. I believe in the soul, and that's the part I focus on, once the person has died. I feel more connection to my father in law at the house he built, sitting out in the yard, imagining him playing with the grandkids than I did in a room with what's physically left of him here on Earth.
Every funeral I went to growing up was always a memorial--generally cremation--and the focus on the physical just wasn't there. It's what I got used to. The Academic Husband's family are old school German on one side, old school Norwegian on the other, and they bury their dead, for the most part (although my father in law was, in the end, cremated). So it's what they're used to, and what's normal for them. It's what they need to say goodbye. It's particularly what the four of them who were there the night he died needed, since their last image of him wasn't a peaceful one. They needed a memory of him in passing that was gentler, not so connected to the shock and immediacy of his death. And I get that too, and I respect it.
But for me... I just stood in that room, tears on my cheeks, watching his wife and sons and daughter as they cried and begged him to come back, as they touched his hands and leaned against his chest and held on, and I just... this stupid voice in the back of my head just kept repeating over and over and over again... that's not him. That's not my father in law. He's not here any more, and I miss him so much, but that isn't him anymore. I felt guilty for thinking that way, for the lack of connection I had to the body of my father in law. Probably, I shouldn't have gone in, but I couldn't stay outside while everyone else went in. I wanted to be there for them, for all of them, but especially the Academic Husband, and I didn't want to offend my mother in law or make her think that I was grossed out or something. Because it's not that, it's not that at all. It just... to me, for me, that's not him. Not anymore.
So. End tangent. That part was hard for me, but not so hard that I'm sorry I was there. It just didn't give me the closure I'm still seeking, the catharsis of grief that still feels stuck.
And I got mad at the funeral director. The business of death... it just outright pisses me off a lot of the time, I have to admit, and that's probably not fair. Everyone has to make a living, right? But it just... it felt manipulative to me. There's a checklist, and you go through from front to end, and you decide what you want to have, and then at the very end, and only then, do they tell you what things cost. And what, are you going to question it then? Are you going to go I beg your pardon, those two bouquets of flowers that I just bought are almost $350.00 dollars? Uh, I don't think so, let's dial that back a notch. No. No you are not, because you're grieving, and you just want it planned and over with, and what's wrong with you, is he not worth $350.00 in flowers? So, you go with it. But I just... calm face, quiet words, seething inside of my brain.
All of the Academic Husband's grandparents were buried, on both sides, so I was kind of surprised to find out that my father in law'd directed that he would be cremated. If it had been her choice, I don't think it's what my mother in law would have wanted, but it was his choice, and she respected his wishes. Still, she wanted to have the casket at church, even though it would have to be closed, since it would be almost a week between his death, and the service, and it's summer, and if you're not being buried, they don't treat the body, so, an open casket is not really an option.
They rent caskets. More things I didn't know, what with my family being the cremation type. The one that they use for rental has a purchase price of $2500.00. The rental cost? Over $500.00. 1/5 the purchase price. Now, I get that with the physical realities of putting a person in the casket and all, they'd have to do things like clean it and redo the lining and whatever. But. Still. Seriously? 1/5 the purchase price to rent it for an afternoon?
The part that's funny-not-funny is that I can just absolutely picture my father in law's voice at that price tag. "Five hundred bucks? UFF DA!" (Bonus points for anyone who knows and has heard 'uff da', because I bet it made you smile.) The same thing for the car that was to drive him to the church and drop him off, and pick him up again and take him back. Almost $300.00. I can just... completely imagine him. "Y'know... I've got a pick up truck, and four sons, counting my son in law. We'll just use that instead, okay?" There wasn't much to laugh at, but imagining that did make me smile.
So yeah. Business of death, the profit of death... it just... I know it's how it works. But I don't like it, and it made me really pissed off. He'd tell you that the memorial book was included, and then he'd tell you how much it cost, and it'd be $150.00 for something you could easily pickup at Hallmark. But it wasn't my place, so I shut the fuck up, bit my lip, and let other people make those decisions.
I got maddest because he just didn't seem to know when a good euphemism was in order. We were there on a Tuesday, and one of my sister in law's wasn't going to get into town until Thursday, and her husband wanted to know if there was any chance that my father in law would still be viewable by then. There are a few ways to answer that question. There is 'no', there's a 'I'm sorry, but it just isn't advisable after that many days'. He went with 'no, and [insert conversation with medical realities in fairly graphic WTFitude about exactly what and why we would not want to see him that many days here]'.
If I'd been standing behind him, I would have been making the Picard 'cut the mike' gesture to get him to stop. Yes, my brother in law is a doctor, and you know that. In this moment, that's not who he is. He's a son who just lost a father. He doesn't want to hear about the inevitable degradation of his father's body. Just tell him no, it's not possible. You're a goddamned funeral director. Are you telling me that you don't know a polite way to decline when it's in the family's best interest not to see their loved one? Seriously.
Apparently I have a lot of angsty feels about the whole funeral home thing. Who knew?
I'm tired. I'm tired, and I'm stressed, and work is a bitch (more pissedoffedness there, because people are being occasionally stupid and it's one of those like... you just get mad at how petty people can be, you know? There's big important stuff happening, and they're all so petty. And tiny. And I just want to tell people to shut up and stop being idiots. Which is not encouraged in the workplace), and the kids are acting out a lot because they're probably picking up on the stress, and they're missing him too.
And it fucking sucks.
Today would have been their 37th anniversary. They would have gone out, or stayed in, and exchanged beautiful disgustingly sappy cards, because that's what they did, and the next time we had a family dinner they would have teased everyone about getting up to naughty shenanigans and we would have all gone AUGH my ears, traumatized, and he would have blushed and just smiled, because that's what he did. He just rolled with everything, and loved my mother in law so goddamned much.
It's not fair. I'm still not okay. And I still feel like my grief has writers block.
I miss him.