As I allow myself a few hours of indulgence tonight by watching Scandal on Netflix, I watched an episode that centred around the death and funeral of a main character (cancer of course). It made me realize that I don’t remember anything about your funeral. I don’t even remember most of the details of the two visitations leading up to it.
What I’m finding most disturbing, and it seems silly, is that I don’t remember what I wore or what I dressed our baby girl in for your funeral. I know it’s not important, but the fact that I can’t remember makes it seem important.
Truly, the only thing I remember about your funeral is the end. Walking behind your casket, zombie-like, in disbelief that you were gone. And then – being outside the church and seeing hundreds of people coming towards me. It felt like they needed hugs from me, for me to comfort them. In that moment, I knew that I was emotionally tapped out. I spent the 4 months that you were sick putting on a brave face, reassuring others, hugging them, telling them it would be OK. In that moment, at the end of your funeral, I knew I couldn’t do it for another second. In that moment, I ran for the nearest side street and I escaped. I know you would have wanted me to comfort others in that moment and I hope you can forgive me.