It is a weariness like none other ; a bone and brain tiredness that doesn’t seem to budge even after a good night’s sleep. I look at my eyes in the mirror and see the exhaustion. Tears seep to the surface with no bidding. Today I face the task of going through stacks of photographs and choosing the perfect ones to fill storyboards for the funeral parlor and to be put on a video loop set to selected songs and music. My brothers and I have bandied about ideas of who might do Dad’s eulogy. Last year Ken and I both knew right away we wanted to speak at Mom’s funeral and our big brother, the minister was doing the service of course. With Dad it felt different for some reason. I think for me part of that is due to this weariness I feel. I somehow doubt I could put one word in front of the other let alone put the effort into finding the right words ahead of time. Now for me the writer , the one so willing to share emotion and sometimes being accused of having diarrhea of the mouth, this seems unusual.But it is how it is this time. I have nothing to say. I have lots to feel though and will always feel deeply the love and support of an amazing father. He is in the core of my being and has shaped who I am. Despite my somewhat rebellious life I lived everyday in the shadow of his approval. He was nonjudgmental, kind and forgiving. He had genuine values and he was a man of integrity. Today I will gaze at pictures of the man who was my Dad . I will file each photo in my heart and allow the thankfulness for his eighty nine years on this earth to
strengthen me for the days ahead. I know I will recover from this deep exhaustion and days will look brighter again. But on this grey day I will mourn and rest and remember.
Grey Days Amid Autumn Splendor
