I am wiped.
You’d never know it, to see me in public. We went to the farmers market yesterday and I carried on as normal. But get me back into our vehicle or home, and I’m not good for much.
I have managed to do the dishes, so that’s something. But otherwise? Yeesh. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. You’d think I hadn’t slept for a week, or had been working hard. Nope.
Maybe it’s the weather. It’s been windy and cool (cold, even!) except for one afternoon, which I spent on the deck at the lake.
Still those four days went fast. I got through three old journals, kept the odd photo or letter or bit of writing, and then got up about 6:30 on two mornings to make a fire and burn the rest before it got too windy.
It was surprising how many things I’d completely forgotten, like taking an hour-and-a-half in 1985 to get eight miles in a snowstorm and then hitting the ditch 100 feet from our aunt and uncle’s. You’d think you might remember that, wouldn’t you? I was with my brother Cameron at the time and he doesn’t remember it either. I do now that my memory’s been jogged, but otherwise it was gone gone gone.
Poor Duckie Doodle was shivering so I put his little jacket on him while I sat there with my coffee.
Scott came out for suppers and spent a couple nights at the lake with me; otherwise I was alone except for Mr Doodle. The days flew by. I walked a few doors down to see Barb the first morning and talk about Oscar, but otherwise I was solitary and that was perfectly okay too.
As usual I lugged out far more clothing and food and books than I used. Why I can’t seem to pare down, I do not know.
Oscar’s funeral was Friday morning and I expected it to be tough. I’m 59 and Oscar is the first person (apart from the husband of an old friend) my age, whom I love, to go from my life. I’ve been fortunate, haven’t I, in that? Their three sons spoke beautifully about their dad (and their mom, sitting there in front of them) and I was proud of their hearts and humour. What courage it takes to get up there in front of a packed hall, standing room only, and tell people so many good things about your dad when it’s gotta be killing you to deal with the reality. I couldn’t do it — I’d soon melt into a puddle and be unable to continue — so I truly admire those who have the guts. My sister Karen sang; that also would be impossible for me.
It was wonderful to see other relatives and old friends; that’s the healing part of funerals, I guess.
I returned to the cabin, made a fire in the pit, and sat looking at the flames and the water for a while. Smoke from the BC wildfires had blown in and gave us (Scott had joined me) a nice red sunset before a huge wind came up and drove us indoors.
The waves were loud and scary and huge as they beat against the rocks in front of the cabin, and this went on all night. I couldn’t help feeling it reflected the emotions many of us are experiencing. Besides the incredulity, loss and sorrow, there is upset and anger, too, that life dealt this hand to Oscar.
I’m thinking about him a lot and trying to convince myself that he’s in a “better” place so maybe I can let it go a little. But he had such a fabulous life, really, that I’m not sure any other place could be better for him. You know? It’s just not right.
I kinda just want to go back to bed and stay there.
On a lighter note:
50 YEARS AGO
August 8, 1968
An employee on the farm of Allan
Geck recently found the mother cat
suckling four new kittens and a baby
skunk. No one but the cat knows just
when the little stranger arrived but he
was apparently made welcome. -reprinted from Wadena News, Looking Back.