Buried
We buried Dad this morning. Well, committed him to a mausoleum, anyway. It's been a grueling almost-week, but I want to thank everyone for the kind comments. I don't have the energy to respond to them individually, but I read them all and appreciate them very much.
Sunday, I spent the night on the floor of the Denver airport after landing late due to wind sheer, and my connecting flight to Columbus left without me. I finally got out the next morning at 10am only because a flight from Albuquerque was late and therefore freed up five seats.
As soon as the plane landed, my sister drove me three hours to my hometown, where we had a dinner with relatives, then drove straight to the funeral home for planning. I was told that Dad most likely died of a massive heart attack while eating a sandwich and watching TV. It was quick.
On Monday, we went to the sheriff's office and picked up the stuff Dad had on him when he died.
Tuesday: four-hour viewing marathon in the evening. Lots of people showed up and said really nice things (and were sincere), so that made me feel good. There was a question of whether or not we'd be able to display Dad's body because at least 24 hours passed before he was found, and the first funeral home didn't refrigerate him, but it was fine. His cheeks were a little full from swelling, but it was nowhere near bad enough to deny people one last chance to see him.
Wednesday: funeral at the church I grew up in.
This morning, we drove three hours back to Columbus, where the American Legion (Dad was a non-combat Vietnam veteran) honored him by walking like robots, giving my sister a flag, and shooting really loud guns into the air. He's in the same mausoleum as his parents.
Now all we have to do is spend the next year or so settling his estate and getting rid of stuff of his that nobody wants. It's an overwhelming amount of work to do, but part of me appreciates the distraction. If some Probate Fairy waved a magic wand and suddenly relieved the burden, I would have nothing to think about except that I'll never get another email from Dad, and he won't be there at Christmas, or when my little brother finally gets his bachelor's degree.
Sunday, I spent the night on the floor of the Denver airport after landing late due to wind sheer, and my connecting flight to Columbus left without me. I finally got out the next morning at 10am only because a flight from Albuquerque was late and therefore freed up five seats.
As soon as the plane landed, my sister drove me three hours to my hometown, where we had a dinner with relatives, then drove straight to the funeral home for planning. I was told that Dad most likely died of a massive heart attack while eating a sandwich and watching TV. It was quick.
On Monday, we went to the sheriff's office and picked up the stuff Dad had on him when he died.
Tuesday: four-hour viewing marathon in the evening. Lots of people showed up and said really nice things (and were sincere), so that made me feel good. There was a question of whether or not we'd be able to display Dad's body because at least 24 hours passed before he was found, and the first funeral home didn't refrigerate him, but it was fine. His cheeks were a little full from swelling, but it was nowhere near bad enough to deny people one last chance to see him.
Wednesday: funeral at the church I grew up in.
This morning, we drove three hours back to Columbus, where the American Legion (Dad was a non-combat Vietnam veteran) honored him by walking like robots, giving my sister a flag, and shooting really loud guns into the air. He's in the same mausoleum as his parents.
Now all we have to do is spend the next year or so settling his estate and getting rid of stuff of his that nobody wants. It's an overwhelming amount of work to do, but part of me appreciates the distraction. If some Probate Fairy waved a magic wand and suddenly relieved the burden, I would have nothing to think about except that I'll never get another email from Dad, and he won't be there at Christmas, or when my little brother finally gets his bachelor's degree.