Waiting

I have come to the conclusion that the USPS employs knuckle-dragging, mouth breathers. I've been attempting to watch the progress of the package containing my father's remains as it makes it way to my house. The package was received by USPS in Texas last Thursday, the 16th. And then.... nothing. Friday there was a package in Kent, WA and was due to make its appearance at my house the 21st. I was thinking it could even arrive earlier as some packages which arrive in Kent make their way here by the next day. Wouldn't that be nice to have the anticipation over and done with? I didn't realize there were two packages out there heading for my house and thought this one was my father's remains. The nervous anticipation hasn't only been affecting me. Ryan even had a dream over the weekend that the postal worker delivered my dad's remains in a wannabe cheap, plastic Tupperware container that was spilling ash as it was handed to him. It doesn't make sense that the anticipation of this delivery is bothering me so much, but it is. I feel weirdly anxious about it. 

In any case, since Friday morning the package has gone from Kent to Seattle (18th), to Spokane (also the 18th), to Yakima (again the 18th), then to Ellensburg (the 21-22nd) where it stayed all day instead of coming here. I don't know if they were playing pin-ball around the state of Washington or what, but that shipping route made no sense. If a package was in Yakima then its next stop should have been Sunnyside, not the opposite direction to Ellensburg. And what was with the trip to Spokane? I put in for a substitute at the temple Tuesday because I am supposed to sign for the delivery of my father's ashes whenever it arrives. I waited around all day for nothing. Sometimes the postal service website doesn't update very quickly, and the package time stamps will all of a sudden catch up with it after it's been delivered so I didn't know if it really would be delivered or not. I ran on the treadmill instead of in the freezing sunshine because I was afraid to miss the delivery. I waited with twitchy, nervous anticipation for two whole days, only to find out the package that came Wednesday night was just more of my dad's mail. I felt like such a fool. I was all worked up over a Priority Mail envelope of Medicare coupons, a Christmas card from someone I don't know, and health care stuff. 

After combing through my email to find the one with the tracking number for the package that does say I need to sign for it, I discovered the reason I wasn't getting updates on that one is because it was just "en route to the next facility." That package was lost in the system for a week. I sent a message to USPS through Facebook messenger just before bedtime last night asking about my father's cremated remains and what to do about a lost package. I woke up to a response saying, "Thanks for contacting us. I see that your item has updated on this morning... you may continue to see updates periodically until final delivery." (The extra word "on" and the .... are exactly as my message was written.) I'm still feeling peeved about the whole mail situation, and replied that I stayed home all day Tuesday and since Monday was a holiday there was no way of knowing the package was delayed. And after losing my father's remains for a week, they didn't think an apology was in order? Yes, I realize I sound snippy. That's how I feel. An apology from the customer service rep doesn't seem like a huge ask though. Especially since that package was only supposed to take 1 to 2 days to reach its destination.

I think my emotions are a little, tiny bit less angry than they have been. I don't have a lot of new memories assaulting me. Just some random stupid ones, like my dad really loved to cheat in games. He thought it was funny to deal extra cards to other people in Uno, or play a couple of cards together to play down his hand faster. Or things like that. I feel a certain amount of self-loathing for letting him stay in my life as an adult at all. What was I thinking? Where were my healthy boundaries? I continued to let him make me feel small and bad about myself. That was so stupid of me. After much pondering and prayer, I think the answer is- some days we were the only thing keeping him from committing suicide. He would ask every so often if he could just be done with life. And as problematic as he was, suicide isn't the answer. If the pain of having him sporadically in my life was the cost of keeping him from such drastic measures, then I guess I need to figure out how to be ok with that. Watching others deal with the guilt and pain of family members committing suicide looks even worse. 

In other news, Maddie is still battling her tummy troubles. She seems to struggle the most in the early mornings, so getting to sleep in every day during our three day weekend meant she didn't throw up. Ryan took her to the doctor Monday. She has new anti-nausea medicine that dissolves under the tongue and we are hoping will help. She took some Tuesday morning, but she threw up again after seminary and again on Thursday. She's making good use out of those blue puke bags I used to have stashed in the minivan. Wednesday the girls did not go to seminary, due to Annie going to an evening FFA event and getting home late Tuesday evening. Maddie is still nauseous, lethargic, and has very little appetite. I've taken to buying 7-Up to get her to drink anything. We never buy pop but I am desperate.