Just Saying

Haus

The buns do enjoy a new cardboard house to chew upon. 

Aster

I decided I needed something to wear to honor my Daddy after the time period for the kriah ribbon is over. I have chosen an aster flower. I found a lovely small pin in a shop called The Divine Iguana (what a delightful name) on Etsy. 

Why an aster? The symbolism of the aster varies, depending on source. It is commonly known as a flower of September, the month of Daddy's birth. The aster is widely associated with wisdom (which seems eminently appropriate for him). And patience. Faith. "I won't forget you." Love. 

That's a lot for one flower to do. Still, Daddy accomplished a lot for one man. So it fits. 

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheDivineIguana

Feed Thyself

Herself speaks.

I have not yet found my footing in this post-Daddy world. I have returned to my regular life, more or less, in that I have gone back to work and my usual activities. It's a little bit of auto-pilot; I know I haven't felt all the Feelings yet. That will take time. Though I am regularly reminded of a meme I saw on Facebook once, that commented: I underestimated how much car crying I would do as an adult. Indeed.

I have also added new obligations: Daddy entrusted certain tasks to me, having faith that I would carry on diligently and carefully in his absence, and it is my honor to do these last tasks for him now. I am his personal representative (executor) of his will, and I must ensure that all is handled properly and in an orderly fashion. I am also helping Mom with payment of bills and related issues, to make sure that she does not worry/have anxiety over financial matters. Daddy always took care of such things. It's my turn now. 

The one thing I am having a great deal of difficulty doing, is taking care of myself. Things like finding time to exercise; making sure there is an abundance of easy non-headache-inducing foods handy for me to eat; giving myself time to feel Feelings -- I am not doing these things well. I am not sure why it is so difficult. 

Perhaps it is the loss of one of the few people in my life who I consider to be a Caregiving soul, that is rendering it difficult for me to find the Caregiver within me at the moment, too. 

I tried harder this weekend. I used the treadmill both yesterday and today. I included some specific items in the grocery pick-up yesterday evening that I knew I could eat, and today, I made myself an egg salad sandwich (gluten free bread and safe salad dressing instead of mayonnaise) and had some berries, even though they were a little expensive since they are off season. 

One step at a time. Daddy would be proud of me for trying. 

I Feel Ancient

Good gravy. 

Brass Rat

My father left me a giant model (a souvenir from one reinion year) of his class ring. It's Most Excellent, and I shall treasure it. 

Burial

 Herself speaks.

It's been two weeks now since Daddy left this earth. 

My mother, my brother and his wife, my sister and her husband, and Beloved Husband and I gathered to lay him to rest. 

We buried his physical shell in a plain pine box, as was his wish, on an overcast New England day, in a snow-dusted, appropriately-named Wildwood Cemetery. The rabbi, a thoughtful, middle-aged woman, spoke kind words of his long life, his family, his accomplishments, his service to the scientific community. The Hebrew prayers, unfamiliar to my ears, were rhythmic and comforting. Because there was no minyan, we instead recited the twenty-third psalm:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
He leadeth me beside the still waters
He restoreth my soul
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for though art with me,
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

At the conclusion of the graveside service, we each tossed handfuls of soil into his grave -- one handful from the cemetery, and one from the Holy Land -- to formally lay him to rest in the earth. 

Rest easy, Daddy. Your work is done. 

-----

We all spent another day and a half together before we once more scattered to our respective corners of the word. Life has resumed more or less as 'normal' -- everyone around me is going about their usual activities. I am trying to do so as well, with my kriah ribbon pinned on to my shirt. This mourning practice is foreign to me, but I cling to it for comfort, as sign of respect for my father's Jewish roots and as an outward, visible symbol of the invisible Void that I now sense in the world. 

I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know what I am feeling. I yearn, but I do not know for what. 

I need to go out into nature, alone, and listen. Perhaps I will be able to hear Daddy there. It will sound just like every voicemail he ever left for me, which always began: 

Hi Missy, it's Daddy....