Completely drained

What a fucking day.
It started well. I got kids to school on time and made it in time for a 9 am meeting. I felt very motivated and "on." After meeting, I had to call the crematory place. When I was there yesterday, I learned that 1) the dr hadn't signed the death cert, despite the fact that legally they need to do so in 72 hours. 2) Dan's brother hadn't signed the authorization to cremate form. I called to check on status of both, and learned they were still trying to get in touch with both Dr and M.

I got a call about 2 pm saying that the dr had signed, and had sent on to vital records, but that they'd left 3 message for M and he hadn't responded. I was livid. I mean, WHY? What's so hard? So I called him a left a message. It's almost impossible for me to say "cremate" out loud, in regards to Dan. I just can't do it. And I was trying not to be a bitch on the phone, but I just about lost it and got really emotional. The message told him that the dr had signed, and now it was up to him, and that they couldn't do what they needed to do until they heard from him.

And what it felt like I was saying is "I'm begging you to destroy the body of my children's father. Please, let's burn him until there is no more." And again, I was sobbing.

It just hurt so badly to think of them doing that to him. And, what doesn't make ANYTHING better is that when his mom died, M and I went to see her there, before her cremation. We didn't pay for the 1 hour family friendly viewing. We saw her, no lie, as M said "feet first, getting ready to be rolled in." There are 3 cremation stations in one large room, so they can actually cremate 3 people at one time, in individual machines. So, I can picture this now. I can picture his face as I last saw him, and I can picture him being rolled in, and the door closing and I cannot fucking DEAL with it. I just can't.

So, I came home and crawled in bed, and obsessed about it.

And a friend is making a slide show for his memorial. She emailed today asking for several of his favorite songs to add to the DVD. So I took a trip down THAT memory lane. Listening to our favorite music, reliving places and times when it had been so important to us.

Then, after I got kids home from school and was dealing with dinner his old bff S called. He called to tell me I'd done a good job with the obituary and had said some nice things. Um, no. Obituaries are not nice. They are tradition, for a crappy situation. You can't make an obit nice. You just can't. And he later when on to clarify that he was referring to the mention of his military history. Well, he served you idiot. Why would I NOT mention in. He kept going, and was really irritating me (and mind you, I like S alot--always have). Dan didn't deserve you. You were too good for him. You've been amazing through all this. No one else would have done what you did. And I was floored. It felt like he was spitting on his grave. It was wrong on so many levels. He said that he'd get a good showing at the memorial by his old friends, but it felt like he was saying that Dan didn't deserve it. He told me that he and his wife (a friend also) would be there on Thursday, but it was to support me, not Dan. I was stunned and speechless, honestly. It wasn't registering how someone could be saying these things to me, about him. My only real rebuttal was that I will defend to the day I die, that he never did anything with mean intention or maliciousness. He was at the mercy of a mental illness that he could not control.

And finally, the icing on the fucking cake...S asked me if daddy was going to be at the memorial on Thursday. She didn't mean a living daddy, she meant his body. I told her no and she asked why. And so began the conversation about cremation. I knew it was going to happen, so I was a bit prepared, but I don't think you can ever be fully prepared to discuss this with a 5 year old. i told her that some people want to be buried in the ground after they die, and some people want their bodies to be turned into ashes, and that was what daddy wanted. She asked what ashes were. I told her they were sort of like sand, or flour. I told her that they would put daddy's body in a special machine that gets very warm and after an hour or so, sort of like magic, his body would be transformed into ashes. No use of the words heat or burning, but it is REALLY hard to explain it without those words, especially after my mental state today! And then, I told her once that had happened, the people that worked at the funeral home would put the ashes that had been daddy into a box for us to bring home. She did NOT grasp this. I told her some people liked to keep the box forever and ever and other people actually wanted there ashes to be placed in places that were special to them. She said she didnt have any questions, so I assume that was good enough for a first pass.