Honestly, one of the most ridiculous thing anyone should have to worry about in the wake of grief is what other people are thinking about them now. I remember, the week after my Dad died, my Mom and I went to CVS to get panty hose and toilet paper and whatever else you get from CVS and we ran into someone who knew my Dad and I from one extracurricular or another. I made eye contact, tried to turn around the other way, and before I could escape I hear "Oh Marie!" What could she possibly want to say to me...whatever it is I certainly don't want to hear it. So she stops me, and says "I just don't know how you're even out and about, if I was you I know I wouldn't be able to get out of bed". I felt awful, like maybe I wasn't grieving *enough*. How dare I be standing; how dare I not be crying 24/7. It took me a while to figure this one out, for whatever reason, but I didn't owe anyone anything, no particular reaction of lack there of. No state of falling-apart or put-togetherness (is that a word?). Nothing. I was, and am allowed to feel whatever I feel, and do whatever I need to do (with the obvious exception of actions/words that will harm myself or others). One of the places this idea most came into play was at the Memorial Service. On November 11th, 2016, approximately 500 people flooded into my church to grieve my father. That is something I will never forget. I will also never forget shopping for the occasion. My Mom and I went to find dresses, and my constant question was "Mom, is this too much cleavage for a funeral?". I remember wondering if it was bad if I looked good, was it worse if I looked bad? What would Dad want? Definitely not black. What do people expect the daughter to wear at her father's memorial service? Probably black. I didn't really own much black and wasn't planning to start now. The only thing more awkward than spontaneous cleavage at a funeral is spontaneous laughter. You're sitting in the first pew, your father's ashes in front of you, and hundreds of crying people around you when you suddenly remember something he once said to you about how they make baby carrots ("Well Marie, when a Mommy carrot and a Daddy carrot love each other very much..."). Laughter happens in grief; laughter happens at funerals. Both of these things make people uncomfortable, and it is their problem to work through not yours or mine. I still make what I call "Dead Dad Jokes" which are only funny of course to people in Dead Dad's Club, everyone else insists I stop. But if you're not laughing, you're crying, and let's be real, we've done enough crying. My family and I laughing after my Dad's memorial service, at a joke someone behind the camera made.
Note my cleavage-less dress, and the fact that I am wearing two different character shoes as I couldn't find the match to either one
1 Comment
Ressler
11/14/2017 07:08:20 pm
Yup. Officially loving the blog. And just laughed aloud at your dad’s ‘baby carrot’ joke myself!
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May 2018
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