So we waited in what seemed like limbo land for a week and a half for Dad's funeral and finally Wednesday came. I see it as a door that had to be gone through. There was something in the process that took me a big step further on. The biggest step of all was seeing his body at the hospital the day he died. Very traumatic, very raw, very necessary for me. Driving to Mum's in the early hours that Friday I was expecting him still to be there when I arrived. I missed him by about fifteen minutes; seeing his body at the hospital became crucial for me.
The funeral at the crematorium went as well as it it could have, given the circumstances. The chapel was full, standing room only, the vicar was a star, and we got through it. At last. We walked through a door on Wednesday and have emerged on the other side to carry on, but now in a new season. A season without Dad.
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