Spent over 3 hours at the funeral home today arranging dads final day. 3 hours in a funeral home, now that's a tough day, it was hardest on mom of course. Many many details to arrange, lots of things to choose and figure out. The only sort of surreal moment was checking out their coffin store. They had a $16000 plus gold plated coffin with all the bells and whistles. Whats kind of prick would buy something that gaudy and wasteful? Think of all the good, all the people you could help with 16 grand. Why waste it? Why put yourself in gold and then thick it in a hole in the ground? Why do people do such stupid selfish shit?
The man from the funeral home in charge of asking all the questions today fit the working the funeral parlour stereotype, a moustache, older, and a very serious slow thoughtful demeanour. Not sure if his title was undertaker but all he needed was one of those big black top hats and a heavy dark cloak to complete the picture. He was very professional, very good at this job but gosh, doing that day in and day out! Living and dealing with grieving people every working day of your life must be so hard. How do you not get depressed and down when living in that world? Would never ever want that job no matter how much money you make at it.
Today was an education, some valuable experience for mom later on. I wish I could talk to my father about the undertaker we met today and the coffins, I miss speaking with him already, I miss seeing his eyes and the faces he used to make. Him being gone seems so wrong, its like a piece of my body is missing. Dad was always there, always present, his opinions and his ideas mattered so much. Now there is just this empty space, his empty hospital bed with no sheets. Where is dad? There is a void in our lives, it feels so wrong, he should be there. Even after a year of preparation his passing, his leaving us seems to have come on so fast, so sudden. You think over and over again of all the things you will never do with him again. Of all the missed opportunities never to return.
I think I need to photograph the empty hospital bed tomorrow with the 5x7 before the home care people haul it off. Creating photos has always given me an escape, some peace and solace. I need a bit of that right now.
Dads funeral is next Tuesday. I have completed his memorial video and am now working on his eulogy.
The man from the funeral home in charge of asking all the questions today fit the working the funeral parlour stereotype, a moustache, older, and a very serious slow thoughtful demeanour. Not sure if his title was undertaker but all he needed was one of those big black top hats and a heavy dark cloak to complete the picture. He was very professional, very good at this job but gosh, doing that day in and day out! Living and dealing with grieving people every working day of your life must be so hard. How do you not get depressed and down when living in that world? Would never ever want that job no matter how much money you make at it.
Today was an education, some valuable experience for mom later on. I wish I could talk to my father about the undertaker we met today and the coffins, I miss speaking with him already, I miss seeing his eyes and the faces he used to make. Him being gone seems so wrong, its like a piece of my body is missing. Dad was always there, always present, his opinions and his ideas mattered so much. Now there is just this empty space, his empty hospital bed with no sheets. Where is dad? There is a void in our lives, it feels so wrong, he should be there. Even after a year of preparation his passing, his leaving us seems to have come on so fast, so sudden. You think over and over again of all the things you will never do with him again. Of all the missed opportunities never to return.
I think I need to photograph the empty hospital bed tomorrow with the 5x7 before the home care people haul it off. Creating photos has always given me an escape, some peace and solace. I need a bit of that right now.
Dads funeral is next Tuesday. I have completed his memorial video and am now working on his eulogy.
