I have been eating, more because I know I should than any other reason. Problem is it feels like WORK. Chewing food is WORK. And I’m not even hungry which is probably why it feels like WORK.
More and more food arrived over the next few days. We’ve gotten home made cookies, store bought cookies, casseroles, soup, homemade rice pudding, frozen lasagna, chicken pot pie, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t even remember.
Since it’s only the 2 of us we have a small fridge and things where starting to hit maximum density in there. Mom was making an inventory and planning meals around what needed to be eaten the soonest. It kept her busy.
Dad was busy distracting himself with writing the eulogy, and phoning people.
P was busy doing a lot of stuff too, I’m not quite sure what but I’m sure it’s stuff I didn’t want to deal with.
All 4 of them where also going through their own grieving process. My parents really loved HIM, as did P who’s been a great friend of ours for 7 or 8 years, so I don’t imagine holding it together and doing all this was easy.
About this time I received a really great, and completely inappropriate, text from a good friend, I read it about a dozen times that day and still read it daily.
“You are in the prayers of all of Texas
It still makes me laugh, ‘tho we thought imagining everyone in a tight speedo was a safer bet.
“C” dropped off some cloths for me to try on for the funeral, which was great because I wasn’t really keen on buying an outfit I wouldn’t wear again. (It’s kind of like a bridesmaids dress, wearing it again only sounds like a good idea.) It was also pretty cool because “C” is a total babe, and I actually fit into some of the total babe’s cloths and looked ok.
Mom (who had packed in 60 seconds) and “P” (who was here for a 3 day visit and then got shanghaied by the inconsiderate asshole dying) needed something appropriate to wear so we hit a local boutique. Again, easy-peasy lemon squeezy, they both found nice and appropriate outfits, on sale to boot.
I still needed shoes. Mom had vetoed my widow SUPERPOWERS and said I couldn’t wear my red boots, so I found a nice pair of low cut/high heeled boots that I honestly can see myself wearing again…no really, I think I will….stop rolling your eyes…
This is also when I started to have problems with even the small amount of media coverage the accident received. (Apparently it was also on the TV as well as the radio and that stupid newspaper article). People know, people at my bank know, people at the drugstore know, people at the corner store know. People are offering their condolences while I’m trying to go about my business, and I do not like it.
I have enough problems not breaking out in spontaneous tears; I don’t need anyone’s (well meaning) help, especially when I’m trying to choose a cough syrup.
I was also starting to receive e-mail notifications that messages where being posted to me on Face Book, a lot of messages.
I joined FB reluctantly a few years ago and think its necessary evil in keeping in touch with random people. My biggest problem with it is some people take it way too seriously and others will use it instead of picking up the phone.
Because of HIS hobby we know a lot of people in the states and some in Europe and just about every one of them who didn’t have our phone number posted something. Answering them gave me something to do and it was nice that so many people cared and cared about HIM.
…and I never did post about cremation being the way to go because of the zombie apocalypse, so I guess that shows some grace.
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