I met with my boss this morning to catch up, and he asked how I was doing. I had a hard time explaining in short detail how I handle stress will externally, but therefore I’m not entirely sure how I’m handling it internally.

I thought this morning on the ride in about the moments when Dad died. It doesn’t haunt me, but it is rough emotionally. Not for the faint of heart. I was sitting on one side of him while my aunt was sitting on the other. My aunt, an operating room nurse, was great because she was familiar with a lot of the process and had a good bedside manor. Dad began to vomit and we rolled him over to me so he wouldn’t choke. My mother ran to get towels to put next to him to absorb the vomit. My aunt was behind him now, and I was sitting next to his waist, half holding him up, but mostly just holding him. Within a couple minutes he had died. It is strange to have had someone die in my arms, let alone a parent.

The house was full of people, some of them quite upset at the news. I needed some space. Mom and I took a walk down to the lake. It was a sunny day, and there was still some snow and ice down on the road.

The family helped clean him up while we were gone. When his parents showed up, I went in with them but I didn’t want to stay.

Later, at the funeral, I was the last one at the casket. His skin was cold. His clothes were full of padding to make him look normal, probably partly due to his death and partly due to his malnourished state. Touching him hurt. It wasn’t like I was pretending he was sleeping, but it seemed more okay to just see him. The realities were further away.

It’s been over two weeks now. I realized today that the twenty year anniversary of the house fire approaches in a few days.