The Memorial

The memorial was nice. I’m glad that it’s over. I learned enough about Dad to elevate my estimation of him. Yet another gift.

Almost everyone was nice, either sharing stories about him or offering condolences, but some people made me tired. The several people who wanted to talk about my parents’ dog who died a few months back were nearly as tiring as the people who wanted to be sad and talk about their dead relatives. I also could not help replying sarcastically to the person who told me not to forget about Mom after this weekend. I mean, seriously, I get that people say stupid things sometimes, but really?

As for me, I’m glad to be out of all black. Bereavement is exhausting. I am thankful to be moving on–grateful to have this space away from needing to be understanding of everyone’s intents and closer to the heart of how I really feel.


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e lewis

I'm a bibliophile with a love of social justice theory living in the Pacific North West trying to figure life out.

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