Could this blog get any more depressing?

I really don't want to deal with this right now. I don't want to think about the funeral and I don't want to plan anything for it yet. I don't really need to either but my Dad keeps asking me about it. Asking me what I'm going to do right after he dies. Have you thought about it, Claire? You're going to have to have somewhere picked out where they can take me after I'm gone. He's actually been asking me about this for a couple of weeks now and I keep avoiding the subject, keep telling him not to worry, that I will deal with it when it comes up.

But yesterday, I had two thoughts: One - I think it would make him feel better if he thought that I had a plan. It's almost like he's trying to see me through one more thing. And at this point, all I can do for him is try, in little ways, to make him feel better. Two - I don't know shit about planning funerals or dealing with recently deceased family members, so maybe he's right and I do need to start figuring this shit out.

So last night, after a brief crying spell on the phone with Mike, I got out a little yellow pad of paper and began to compile a list of names of the people that I think will come to the service. I thought if I could figure out who would come then I would have a better idea of what kind of service we should have. But that's the tricky thing and I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THAT IT'S ME THAT HAS TO PLAN THIS OUT. Anyway, he wants to be cremated and for us, his children, to scatter his ashes where ever we want. But in terms of the service, neither of us are affiliated with any kind of church out here, nor do we know any ministers. I'm not particularly keen on having it in one of those depressing funeral parlors. I was thinking, maybe the beach at sunset but that seems like a big production.

I kind of want to get a minister but really only because it would take a lot of pressure off of me. There is just no way that I'm going to lead the whole thing. Public speaking is my WORST NIGHTMARE, even if it is at my father's funeral or maybe especially if it's at my father's funeral. Yesterday I asked him if he would maybe want to write something that can be read at the service (hoping again to take some pressure off of me) but he said, no, that he'd like me to write and read something.

When Julie died, I actually didn't stay for the funeral. I had said my goodbyes to her and had had more than enough of seeing everyone that I went to highschool with so I returned to New York to mourn her death in private. But she too, had asked me to write something for her service. I did but her stepmother read it in my absence. That's the problem with being a writer. Everyone thinks these things come easily. They really don't.

Another thought I had yesterday was that this whole thing would be so much easier if my mom were still around. And then it seemed so strange that I hadn't thought that before. I've gotten so used to not having a mother but, wow would it be great if she were here now.

Anyway, I have to wrap this up because Mike is on his way down and we are going to go to the beach for a couple of hours. Tomorrow my brother, Eric, is coming to town. Should be both helpful and not.

Oh - and if anyone has any helpful advice or thoughts on how to plan a memorial service I'd love to hear them.
1:18:53 PM     comment []