A little under a week ago, I found out that my father died.
It’s very odd but the uncomfortable shackles of estrangement I’ve been used to my entire life now seem to be melting away. In their place is an emancipating comprehension that my destiny is my own and that I’m not, ultimately, responsible for other’s emotions, behaviors, or previous actions.
In a few days, I have a funeral to go to and quite possibly a lot (and I do mean a lot) of relatives to meet. When I went to my uncle’s funeral service in 2002, the place was filled to overflow capacity. I don’t really know my paternal family at all so, it will be very interesting being around so many people who are related to me for whom I have no living memory.
I was discussing with a friend of mine that I wished I could bring my knitting or crochet work but we both agreed that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea given that I am one of the next of kin of the deceased at the upcoming funeral. I’ve never done anything like this before so, please don’t take it as me being rude or flippant. I just tend to function better with something occupying my mind like knitting, crocheting or my phone. Otherwise, the anxiety kicks in majorly.
Another friend of mine offered to go with me despite living more than one hundred miles from me. He’s incredibly kind.
All my friends have been wonderfully kind and sweet during this time and I really appreciate each and every last one of them. They truly are family to me in all but blood.
I need to go make dinner now. Later.