The Day The Sky Fell...

Repulsed at the suggestion of riding in the town car, I ask my high school English teacher to drive me to his funeral.  Mrs. Tanick picks up my besties before stopping at my house.  Her 20-year-old Honda makes me smile. I enjoy the irony of arriving in a clunker with my window down and my elbow perched. 

A beautiful catholic church with royal blue carpeting forgets to welcome me.  I walk up the aisle alone.  Why would a flag drape his casket? My insides, filled with tiny gymnasts, put on a performance.  And, the voices, they turn to a mumble.  I don the sleeveless-white-pant-outfit uncle buys me for the occasion; black reverence blew out the window.  I sit with my mother and sister, not even sure when I climbed over them in the pew.  I leave the brain gabble for the navy of the flag, letting my eyes lock on, leaving my body to fossilize in numbness. 

The departure off the stone porch of the parish is hurried.  Uncle ushers me into the back of the town car beneath the extended ladder of the fire engine – yet another puzzling honor bestowed upon father. 

The only floodgates opening today: the skies.  A man in a trench coat holds an oversized umbrella and opens my door at the burial site.  I leap.  Now free from the car, I see Nanny struggling to slide across the seat.  I help. 

As I stand observing in a muddy puddle, the firemen take the casket down off the engine.  A typical military-like ceremony drones on until the gun shot salute.  Now a triangular pillow, the flag, is handed to mom.  I feel relieved to stand in the mud as I can remain numb and still.

..........................No one knows I’m not crying; it’s pouring.    

I could judge my emotionless self for feeling numb at the funeral of my father. Yet, I squirm just thinking of condemning anyone standing stoically in the mud at a funeral. Almost any reaction stands as normal in relation to death, dying, and grief. Realistically, when conflicting emotions fight for time and space, zoning out or dissociating differs entirely from a cold affect. I hated him; I loved him. Both emotions exist; both deserve attention without judgement. Looking at my 18 year-old self with a view from 45, I accept my reaction/s and love this person unconditionally.

Does this fit in your life? .....Both emotions exist; both deserve attention without judgement. Looking at my ____-year-old self with a view from ____, I accept my reaction/s and love this person unconditionally.

Did you know that when you place your hand flat on your upper chest, your brain processes this as a hug?