Well, that's over.

We went to the burial service on Friday and the memorial thing on Saturday.

Mom asked my brother Steve, who has a seasonal business and writes on the side to do the eulogy, but about two weeks ago when we were talking he said, "I just can't do it. I'm utterly swamped right now and I can't do justice to it anyway. I'm too emotional."

If you know anything about narcissistic parents with more than one child, there is usually a 'golden child' in the sibling group. Steve is that child.
His relationship with our father was a good one most of the time.
He wasn't hurt the way I was.

But we talked it over and I agreed that he shouldn't do it.
I offered to write it instead.

It took a week of solid thought (that's how I write something important... lots of thinking first) and about 14 hours of writing and editing to get it the way I wanted, but I delivered the eulogy and did my best to speak truth and say nothing hurtful.

There was no point in saying anything hurtful, and of course a memorial isn't the time or place for shit like that anyway. Things are how they are, I knew years ago that an apology would never come and that we'd never repair our relationship. I was mostly at peace with that. I'd done what I could and it wasn't my fault anyway. I was a child when it all happened.

My adults didn't know how to be adults. Mom was an enabler and a doormat.
Dad's emotional maturity was that of a seven year old, all foot-stompy and tantrum-y and blame-y. Nothing was ever his fault, and was usually mine.
I was told that many times. Ah well. See the water flowing under the bridge?

I've never been a big public speaker.
I get nervous.

It's funny, though. I can get up and sing in front of a crowd and not have my voice waver and be steady and confident. I really don't have stage fright when singing, I think because I was performing from the age of about three until I gave it up about 15 years ago.

Ask me to get up in front of that same group of people and talk and I'll be a wreck.

It went well, though. I was nervous for about 3 minutes, then got into my groove and finished. People laughed in the right places and seemed very interested in what I had to say. My extended family weren't the only people in tears, so I guess I did okay.

I started by saying my dad's name and what he was when he was born. A son,  grandson, nephew, twin brother, cousin.

As I spoke the words,  I lit a candle and placed it on an overturned plastic bin that was hidden under a black tablecloth.

As I went through the various stages of his life, husband, father, teacher, grandfather, musician, I lit a candle for each thing he was.

(Not real candles. Battery operated. Didn't want to burn down the facility.)

Toward the end of the eulogy I said, "I called him when he was in the hospital in October. Some of our conversation was odd, he was confused about exactly what was going on.

But he said that he felt like it wasn't going to be much longer before he would see his brother again. That he was tired of being sick and that he was ready to see what was next.

I asked him if he was afraid.
He said no and added something about stars and darkness and not being fearful.
I asked him to say it again.

He repeated the words and said that it was from a poem about an old astronomer, and that I should look it up because he could not remember exactly how it went.

 He chuckled and said, "I am an old astronomer."

I found the line Dad was trying to say:

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;  I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night​.

That was the final thought he shared with me.
Dad left us on November 23rd."

I extinguished the candle that was placed above all the others on the bin, leaving the rest of them lit and arranged in a half circle below.

Then I said, "You're all here with our family today because your life was touched by Dad.
He probably taught you something, either as your school teacher or in some other way.
He was a born educator.
He may have been your friend. A colleague. A neighbor. Maybe he was your pastor for awhile.

These lights are symbols of some of the things he was.
Husband, father, grandfather. Uncle, friend, neighbor. Music man.
He's not physically here anymore, but our memories are the light he left for us.
And every time we remember a song he sang or a joke he told or a thing he taught us  that light still shines.
Take that with you when you leave today.
Remember him with love."

It was silent in the room, then everyone started applauding.
I didn't know they did that at memorial services.
They never have at any I went to.

Afterward, there were a lot of people who came and talked to me.
They told me it was the best eulogy they'd ever seen.

I was feeling both relieved and pretty good about it until Mom said, "I didn't know you knew how to write!"

After all the things I have sent to her over the years, quite a few from this blog. Hell yes I can write.
She was just being insulting on purpose.
Thanks, Mom.

She won't ever forgive me for what she sees as my betrayal of my father. She says she doesn't understand why I didn't come over and see him after he got so sick, either.

But she does.

I am inclined to just let that flow past, too. She's not in great shape physically and after the emotional beating she took over the last 64 years and the way it ramped up even more in the last six months or so to go along with the hard labor and diaper changes and vitriol, she's had enough.
I'm not going to make things worse for her.
What purpose would it serve?

On the brighter side, we saw a bobcat on our drive home. It was a relatively large specimen as far as bobcats go, and sleek and healthy looking. Beautiful markings. It paused on the hillside next to the highway long enough for us to get a really good look. Not long enough for me to get my phone out and snap a photo, though. Dammit.

It's good to be done with all the funeral and memorial stuff.

Great to be back home, too.
And no school until January 2nd.
I'll have time to do some planning in between meetings for this thing or that thing and mandatory in office hours on Fridays.

I hope to get a couple paintings done. I have a lunch date with Tami, too.
As usual, the house could use a little work. I am great at making a mess, not so good at keeping things cleaned up.