I haven’t been sleeping well since Dad died. I wake from vivid dreams to find myself dislodged from space and time. I feel a bit like Kilgore Trout.
Unlike Kilgore, I quickly reemerge into the same chronilogically-ordered present. I work from confusion to disappointment that this has happen yet again as I regain consciousness.
C and I caught an early-morning flight today in order to help prepare for Dad’s public memorial tomorrow. The lack of sleep has me feeling extra spiky and a bit hollow–sort of like the emotional equivalent of a sea urchin’s shell. But the memorial programs and the playlist are made. The pizzas were picked up. The pictures and mementos of Dad’s life were chosen and put in the car so as not to be forgotten. The important things of today are done, leaving me to confront another night. And so it goes.
And so it goes.