Thread: Wide Awake
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Old 10-27-2013, 06:31 PM
FullofLove1052 FullofLove1052 is offline
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Join Date: Dec 2012
Location: English Rose by birth; Calling the Southern Hemi home by choice.
Posts: 915
Default Two funerals...

We are in France until tomorrow morning. My aunt asked me to stay a little longer. I am spending the night with her. It was too hard on her being in that home, so we brought her to our villa in France. She has asked all of the members of the family to just come and spend a night or two with her just so she will have someone to talk to. Matt is cooking for everyone right now.

She is not taking his death well at all. They gave her a dose of Lorazepam to pretty much keep her calm. She could not even get out of the car for the burial. My maternal grandmother stayed with her and held her hand. We stayed with her until they sealed the vault. The dose wore off yesterday when she made it back to their home. She went to her bedroom to change clothing, and when she was walking back through the hallway that lead to his bedroom, she broke down. My mum and dad just held her. She has had her up moments like she is praying for the strength to weather this storm, and she has had her down moments where she says that she is not sure she will ever be okay again. It is going to be a long time before she is okay, but we are all surrounding her and willing to be her strength while she is weak.

I have never seen her so sad and just lost. For 23 years, he took care of everything. He treated my aunt like a queen. He refused to call her adult children his step-children, and he was as proud of them as an daddy could ever be. He told my cousin that she did not need to work while at university because he was going to cover all the expenses. His only request was that she make him proud and give him a reason to brag about his daughter. She said it best, "We never wanted or needed anything. Even if it was his last, he was still going to give it to make sure we had what we needed." She mentioned how on Tuesday, two days before his death, she set the alarm on her phone to go off every two hours so she could administer the doses of Roxanol, so he would know how it felt to, "never want for anything," like them.

My uncle's funeral was a great celebration. The minister preached the hell out of that eulogy/sermon. I have never heard of the grave being phrased as a holding place or passageway to the next stop. He had to unzip the robe, unbutton a few buttons on his shirt, and loosen up his tie. I have never been to a funeral with that much life.

I was surprised to see my name on the programme. My aunt wanted me to perform the closing tribute. I have never been able to sing or play the piano in public, but I had to yesterday. That was daunting, and at that point, the funeral directors were moving the casket by the door for the final exit viewing. The song was "Make You Feel My Love," by Bob Dylan. It was one of their favourite songs. I tried not to cry while singing or during the service, but during the final viewing, the tears just feel freely. They did a good job on him. He looked like himself, and I am okay with remembering him like that. He fought a good fight, defeat was calling, and he can rest now.
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Ry - Me. Panromantic demisexual with a history of polyamorist tendencies. Married to...
Matt (Hubby) - The once distant stranger that I complement beautifully. DH of 13 years and father of our four children.
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