Hanging in there

Hard things are still hard.

I was putting stuff away last night and I looked at that photo of my dad that my mom sent me again. In it, he is standing outside one of the buildings he taught in, hands folded behind his back. He is grinning at the camera, the broad grin that is typical of that side of the family (his brothers have it too, and if I'm not careful to compose my face in photographs, I can have it) that I thought of as somewhat silly and not-very-attractive (which is why I am often not really smiling in photographs).

But that photograph, that photograph. It is so "typical" for him. It is how I remember him in happier better times.

And I started crying again. Cried for quite a bit, in fact. I remind myself it's not a linear progress and that going "backwards" is to be expected. But I think I'm glad I did set up another grief counseling session in a couple of weeks.

(And yes, I think every new grief opens old ones back up - I was also thinking yesterday about the minister leaving, and while that's a different KIND of grief, it's still a grief.)

I'm going to have to put the photograph away in a safe place. I want to keep it, of course, but looking at it now is too hard.

Also, in her usual Wednesday-night phone call, my mom started talking about some of the planning of the memorial service. This is hard, too. I know it has to be done and if her talking to me about it helps her, that's great, but it's still hard. Apparently a few people from a family my dad knew growing up - but that I never met - might be planning on coming and my uncle asked her if it was just for family or if anyone could come, and she said anyone, so I expect there will be people there I do not know, and that is also difficult.

I think she's talked to me about the service more than she's talked to my brother. I don't know if that's because I'm the oldest, or if because she talks to me more frequently, or if it's because they kind of form their own little solar system (my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece, their dog and other animals...) and my mom and I are each kind of....isolated satellites with nothing to orbit. For her, that's a new thing; for me, it's how it's always been since I left home. (And yes, especially now it is hard kind of just being a satellite at the very edges of other people's systems.)

I also have AAUW tonight. And even though as I said I regret being "at the edges" in this time, I'm also REALLY not up for the consoling people will probably want to do (this is the first meeting since my dad died) and especially having to talk about it.

And last night, I had a dream, much in the mode of ones I've had lately. In this one, my mom and I were sitting in the car in the Target parking lot (in my dream I conflated the Target near her and the ones nearest me - it was set up like her Target, but to get home, we had about a half-hour drive). The car wouldn't start and it was getting dark out. And we were kind of low-level fussing at each other because we were worried and nothing we could try was working, and there was no one we could call. And then - it had gotten dark so we didn't see it at first - but I heard the hood of the car shut, and a tall, slender African-American woman (not someone I know, but sometimes I think my brain just invents people as needed) came up to my window and said "I think it's fixed, give it a try. My car does the same thing" And yes, it was fixed....and we drove out and waved at her as we passed and I remember thinking "wow, she was really kind of nicely dressed to be messing around under the hood of a car" but I don't know.

I also made my travel plans for Thanksgiving. Yes, I am going Amtrak again despite the dungshow that the last trip was. I can't quite bear the thought of getting myself to DFW at Thanksgiving time (and back) and dealing with TSA (which I've never dealt with before; literally the last time I flew was in 1999) and all of that. And I was never a good flyer to begin with - I get claustrophobic and I don't like being surrounded by that many strangers.

I *am* traveling the Thursday before (so: I will have to cancel Friday classes, and I DON'T EVEN CARE. In one class I have an exam scheduled and a colleague will give it for me). That way, if things go really bad, I should still get up there in enough time for Monday's service, and if it's on time, I will be there a day before everyone else, so if anything more needs to be done, I can help my mom.

My mom was also regretfully talking about all the stuff that remains to be done (some of the credit cards that were in both their names....well, they have to be cancelled and she has to reapply for them, which....I get why places do that but it makes it hard. She's having to do them one by one so she's sure to have functional cards). And it breaks my heart a little, I so wish I could be up there to help her, but I can't. And I have my own exhausting schedule here - three classes three days a week (and one day an afternoon lab too) is a lot. I'm barely keeping up. I'm getting done what needs to be done but not a whole lot more.

Edited to add, over at work: aw dangit. When I wear my keys in the little "purse type" holder that hangs over one shoulder, and I walk down the hall and they bounce off my hip as I walk and clink...it reminds me of how I could always hear him coming down the hall (especially in the classroom buildings, when I was working in an office or lab) because the change and keys and pocket watch would clink in a similar way. Even though I'm shorter than he was and a woman instead of a man (and have a different walk), the cadence of that clinking is very similar and...yeah, this morning it set me off again a little, it did.

Edited again, at 9:15 am: I don't know if it helps, or if it makes it worse (in the sense of putting off the long-term having-to-accept issue) of thinking of the person you're grieving as being in another country where there's no phones or mail or e-mail, so you can't talk to them. (I guess in a way, if you believe in a literal Afterlife, it is sort of "another country" or perhaps another dimension - I often wonder if some of the more-spiritualist talk of "thin places" has to do with that - where we can't have contact). But it is hard and I'm having a REALLY hard time of it today. A student asked me how I was doing and a half-hearted "okay?" was the best I could manage.