Processing Emotions

Processing big emotions is exhausting, and I am exhausted. My brain has decided that I need to relive all of the horrible memories and awful feelings in an effort to come to terms with the death of my father. It doesn't help that every time I have to deal with the physical aspects of him dying leave me less than happy either. My dad said the arrangements had been all taken care of for when he passed. LIES. He was piggy-backing off someone else's funeral plot purchases, and put a whole $100 in trust for.... I'm not sure what that would cover. Not cremation. Not a nice urn (those start at $150). Not picking up his body and refrigerating it if he had been within 50 miles. Not opening and closing the gravesite.  Not a headstone. He always said he didn't need much when he went. Hopefully he's ok with the basic $12 urn I ok'd him to be mailed in. He's going to be lucky if I don't just stick it in the yard and use it for target practice with Ryan's pellet gun. I may just settle for leaving him in the garage until arrangements are made. 

I feel so lonely. Ryan looks at me and doesn't know how to help. I don't know how to help me. The people who probably best understand are the people I don't want to talk to. They are all mixed up in that painful history, and talking to them now doesn't leave me feeling any better. Usually worse. My kids don't know what happened to their mom. I don't recognize myself. I've decided its probably better to be a mute today than the raging, crazy lady. I know we don't get everything right as parents, but I'm pretty sure my kids got a better shake than I did. They won't understand the confusing cocktail of grief/anger/sadness/bitterness/guilt/pain/self-pity/self-loathing that is swirling inside me. They barely knew my dad, and it was better that way. Ryan says he doesn't feel much except relief at my dad's passing. He said he felt more sad when the music teacher at his school building passed away from cancer than he does for my dad. That feels telling.

I turned my emotional cocktail into decluttering today. I think we got rid of probably 9 trash bags of stuff, plus a couple of boxes. Some into the garbage and some to the Goodwill. My kids aren't sure they like this version of me. I have a lot more I'd like to do, but as stated in the beginning of this post- I am beyond tired and decision making is way harder than it should be.

I'm trying to decide how I feel about my dad. Yes, I am hurt and angry and so stinking mad at him. It's probably best I don't get any say in how much pain the afterlife might bring. I want to find forgiveness. What if that was his best effort? Our theology teaches you are only accountable to what you know and what you can be held accountable for. Hence, young children don't need to be baptized because they don't understand yet. What if how he lived was the best he could do with his upbringing and brain chemistry? I am trying to make room in my heart for love and mercy and forgiveness. There is a part of me that is hoping for some fiery retribution right now, and for that I obviously need a loving Savior to help me make it past that. I am no where near good enough to return to my Heavenly Father so I need a merciful Savior. And if I need one, that same courtesy needs to be extended to everyone trying to muddle through this life.