I’m still struggling after the death of my father.
I’ve managed two days after work and actually enjoyed the distraction. The people at work have been terribly supportive. One of the girls gave me a small bouquet of roses and carnations – which are the flowers Mom took to the funeral from me. I think everyone said that they were sorry to hear my sad news. The partner I work for sat down and just listened to me talk a couple of times – it’s unusual for her to listen to anyone so I was well impressed. My boss sent me home early because I got into the office so early.
Helios has been great as well. We have had a lot of much-needed cuddling.
I’m trying to maintain my optimistic outlook. Although I was unable to attend the funeral, I will be speaking to my Dad’s brother on Sunday. Mom has arranged to see a couple Dad’s family members to get some photos for me. Trouble is that when I immigrated to England I could only bring what I could carry. I have some photos of all my family – but I’d love more.
However, I still cry when I think that I missed Dad’s funeral. It’s agony for a number of reasons: I wanted to be sure that my Dad’s family know that I wanted to be there. I also missed my family standing around and telling stories. I’m Dad’s only child so I have to rely on my memories until I get to see some family again. I have found that writing has helped a bit. Pouring my memories onto a page is cathartic.