It’s been a very very draining day.   Today, my mother, myself and my sisters went to Straddie to spread my father’s ashes out at one of his favourite places on Flinders Beach.   I totally wasn’t looking forward to this.  I worked until midnight last night and then had to get up early this morning to get on the barge to Straddie.  As we drove towards Cleveland…. me chugging down on a V for breakfast in a desperate hope that I might become compis mentis enough to not drive us into a ditch – and them chatting away as though we’re off for a lovely picnic day out or something ….. I realized I really … REALLY didn’t want to go.  I just felt absolutely no inclination what so ever to be a part of this.

Over the past couple of weeks, it’s become very apparent that my father’s passing away has hardly affected me at all.  And in fact, I find myself more upset about the fact that I’m not upset … than I am about having actually lost him.  Last week, a friend was asking me how the family was coping, and she said she couldn’t begin to imagine what we must be all going through….   😐   Well upon hearing that, I had to sit there and ask myself why I wasn’t going through anything?  Since Dad died, I’ve mostly felt a huge sense of relief… relief that he’s no longer stuck in his rebellious body… relief that my mother is no longer working herself to the bone caring for him… relief that I wasn’t called on to help him die after all…. relief that it’s all over essentially.   So mostly I dont feel that I’ve been going through anything….. let alone ‘unimaginable’ grief.  

And recognizing THAT… makes me feel guilty…. with a capital G.    What sort of heartless baggage feels so little over her own father’s death???  

But for better or worse, I was on this god awful day trip whether I liked it or not.   IN the end we did what we went for…. spent the day doing the little traditional Straddie family holiday things, walking the scenic route around Point Lookout, eating ice blocks sitting atop Adder Rock, buying liquorice at the Mintee Street shop and going for a nice long walk up Flinders Beach.  We found the spot where the freshwater meets the ocean and here was where Mum wanted to place his ashes.   Quite predictably as soon as those ashes were released from the urn, my Mum, and both my sisters all ended up in tears…. while I stood there… watching them… trying not too feel so distant… trying to give them hugs and support… and yet….. mostly I remember being suddenly grateful for my reflective Oakley sunnies…. as it meant they couldn’t notice that I wasn’t even remotely upset.   😐

Tonight, I feel like I must be a truly awful person.   I feel cold, distant, unemotional and heartless…. almost devoid of normal human feeling. That’s how I currently see myself, in light of my inability to muster a single tear of farewell for my Dad… or if not for that… then one might expect some sense of empathy with my mother’s grief…  but I got nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  

What is wrong with me????    🙁
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Thanks everyone for your support and warm words this week, It’s been a rather trying week as you might expect, but the emails, SMSs, phone calls and cards I’ve received from so many friends, both near and far, have been really wonderful.  It’s nice to know that you’re in the thoughts of so many people when you’re dealing with something as difficult as losing a parent, and doubly comforting to know that people care so much.

My father wasn’t a flamboyant or flashy sort of character, he was far too practical and down to earth for that sort of thing.  He was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known and was always available for sensible advice.  Dad was known for his dignity, integrity and his deep strength of character.  The way he handled living with MND demonstrated just how strong he was time and again.

He had an amazing and sometimes obscure sense of humour, and a keen appreciation for harmless practical jokes.  Strangely enough though he must have been the worst joke teller I have ever known – he’d always crack up long before the punch line, and be unable to finish telling it, so if no one else knew the ending, we’d all be sitting there waiting for him to compose himself.

Dad didn’t live a big life, he didn’t touch thousands, he didn’t gain the notice of the masses, but those who knew him, and those he touched will never forget the incredible qualities he possessed, and his generosity in sharing them with us.

Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am a rivers peaceful flow.
I am the sun warming the plain.
I am the gentle summer’s rain.
When the bush is still and hush’d
I am the dawn’s slow creeping blush.
I am the birds in graceful flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
For this is farewell but not goodbye.

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