My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

Endings… Yesterday was a tough day. I kinda figured I’d feel somewhat emotional at the funeral but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling I had as I walked into the chapel. My heart started to beat harder, I felt a little shaky and it was unnerving. A friend came up and said hi and asked how I was doing. I told her that I felt a little weird but otherwise ok. Looking back I’d say that was a total lie. I wasn’t ok. The flashbacks to a year ago were vivid and real. This was going to be difficult. The music being played helped and we had several minutes to wait before things got underway. But things soon did get going and before I knew it we were instructed to stand as the coffin and subsequent parade of family filed into the chapel. I tried not to look at them because I remember all to well having all eyes on me. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Seeing the pity reflected in people’s eyes doesn’t inspire confidence that I would have liked to have had that day.The service was kinda long yesterday but it was to be expected. Carlos was a well loved and respected man with 9 surviving children, 30 some odd grandchildren and a great grandchild. This of course didn’t include his 6 siblings and countless other relatives. Let’s just say the family took up the main part of the chapel while the rest of us were sitting in the cultural hall. That’s ok though. It’s how it should have been. The tributes were lovely. Carlos deserved all of them. However I could not stop the feelings of envy as I listened to how many times Carlos faced death in the past 27 years. He had fought heart disease for nearly 3 decades and had had many chances to cross to the other side and yet his family was given – even up to the very end – every opportunity in the book to be with him, love him and say their goodbyes. Carlos got to go on his own terms and he accomplished the list of things that he wanted to do before he died. According to family he did all of them. And when it became apparent that his time was really drawing to a close, he waited for all of his children to be there before he went. How wonderful for him and how fortunate for his family. I know they are grateful for they said so. But as all of this was coming to light, I could not help but feel completely sorry for myself and for Michaela. Carlos’ children all paid tribute to their father in some way. They had so many wonderful things to say and all hoped that his influence would enable them to be better people. All I could think about was that Michaela probably won’t be able to say any of that about her father. If I am lucky, she will have some fond, yet foggy and vague memories of him but let’s get real. Whenever I try to remember things when I was 5 years old, not too many memories surface. I can barely remember yesterday let alone 32 years ago. What will she take with her as she moves on in her life? Suddenly the weight of responsibility was feeling heavier and it was all on me. I am the one who is going to have to shape this person. What will she say about me at my funeral? This burden is heavy….. we are all given opportunities to make our choices. They ARE our own. But our choices can impact other people and change their lives forever. I think about that a lot. In the beginning there was so much anger. And to a much lesser degree, I have moments when I would love the opportunity to give Mike a piece of my mind for putting me into this situation. But I have to also wonder…is there anything that I could say to him that he hasn’t already thought himself? I can’t begin to fathom what things must be like. On one hand, we’re told that the peace and light of the other side is wonderful. But on the other hand, we may not take any possessions with us, but I would have to say that we’re all here for a reason and that’s to learn and we take with us the lessons we learned in life and I think a big part of that is regret. So, I was a big giant snot ball at the funeral. And I suppose for people who don’t know me or my situation, they must have thought that I was grieving Carlos in a pretty big way. But let it be known that although I am sad for his family for having to miss such a guy, I am happy that Carlos is free of his pain. He’s at peace now and all is well. The feelings are still raw and will be for a while. But it’s not about just one thing. Grief encompasses the loss of my love, the loss of my identity, the guilt for not finding a way to prevent it from happening and the sorrow for just imagining how he must feel too. I think I may have to steer clear of funerals for a while…so, to all my loved ones… no dyin’… I don’t think my heart could take it.Beginnings...This was only the first half of my day yesterday. The next half was a visit to the Temple – my first since Mike’s death. I wasn’t sure what to expect while I was there. This was Katy’s special day and it should have all been about her. But yeah..I have my own selfish reasons for going. It was a good experience but I guess not what I expected or hoped for. I was asked if I had felt peace at all afterwards and I said that I didn’t know. I was mainly distracted by the moment seeing my niece go through for the first time – the look of wonder and emotion that she had. My other niece was there and she stood by her new husband. She glowed and looked so happy – there is so much ahead of them. My brother wept while he stood with his family. My dad sat close by my mother. And I stood alone staring up at the tall ceiling and the sparkling chandelier that hung in the center of the room. Peace? No. Not yet. Feeling more alone than ever? Yup. It sucks. I think I’ll have to return to the Temple again soon but I’ll need to do it alone. I think it’s the only way…Dreams… I haven’t dreamt much of Mike at all. In the beginning I was afraid to. That soon turned to just aching to see him again. First to remember my dreams is rare anyway. Even more rare is to have a dream with him in it. I think I may have only had one or two this past year and the dreams were your typical silly dreams. They usually made no sense and he was just there and there was nothing special about it because the thought that he had died never even existed within the dream. But last night’s dream was different. As dreams go, this one was just as weird as any other. I feel like the dream was directed by Tim Burton. They’re quirky and strange and sometimes the serious is dealt with such irreverence that you can’t help but laugh. So, to have a dream that began with a vision of Mike in his coffin, I knew the dream would be one to reckon with. I’m not going to get in to too many details. Because I am not sure the dream means anything at all. There is no rhyme or reason to why the dream started the way it did and why it proceeded to take such a strange turn. But this was the first time in a year that I had dreamt of him that also included his death. And what’s interesting to note is that in my dream I was talking to him and he was talking as if he had no clue as to what had just happened. I was feeling such guilt because the things he was mentioning didn’t even exist anymore and all of us had moved on to different lives without him. In the dream, I was trying to tell him this. And then the last thing I said was, “Mike, you died four years ago.” And then came the look on his face. That look when the lightbulb goes off but you’re too stunned to react to it. It was at this point that I must have emerged from a deep sleep because I started to get a sense of my actual surroundings as morning was dawning. Michaela was starting to stir and all I wanted to do was get back into that sleep so I could get back to my dream and explain things to him and help him understand so he’d be ok with it. But I never did get back to sleep. I woke wondering the significance of the four years because it’s only been one. …Dreams are exhausting and infuriating. They rarely make sense. They hardly are enjoyable. And for some reason, sometimes they are what we cling to.  I will say that the four years comment provided me a little clarity. I won’t wax philosophical about it but I will say that it all takes root in the decisions we make. From now on, I think I’d like to go back to those silly Napoleon Dynamite kinda weird dreams and leave those Tim Burton ones to Johnny Depp to act out!