I ended up driving to see my daughter-in-law and talking about her stepdad's death, as well as having lunch and organizing her office a bit. Even when we're prepared, we think, for someone's passing, it is still shocking and unreal. That she is so far away makes everything harder. She had the right instinct to want to be there, but guessed the timing off by a few days. I think we want to DO something. When I talked to her mother on the phone, she sounded also stunned and as if she didn't quite know what to do. They were going to the funeral home, and she had made a bunch of calls, but she was sitting at a table staring at a piece of pizza and a salad. The ordinary becomes bizarre in such situations.
Because he wanted to be cremated, the memorial service will not be for about a month, so everyone can get their plane tickets and take time off. But that leaves the time in between similar to being stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone. How can one person be there and then, not be there? We have sad feelings, but also often relief, and anger, and feeling sorry for ourselves and all those other feelings that "aren't supposed to be there".
There is something to be said for rending one's clothes and tearing our hair and screaming at the top of our lungs. Something MORE is called for, but what? Our culture sends us confusing messages. We imagine Jacqueline Kennedy in Warhol's paintings. But behind the scenes, did she break priceless china and snap at aides? Was she short with the children? Did she wash her hands and face compulsively?
What is our role? It's a struggle to step out of it and let feelings wash over us. Fatigue becomes our friend, as we lie in a darkened bedroom with a cool washcloth over our eyes. Because every time we open our eyes, a new, altered universe confronts us.
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