My dad isn’t officially signed off yet. But, he is dead. He was dead before I left for Ottawa, I think. I told Eric that I thought he would live but I think I was indulging in a bit of denial. When I saw him I felt nothing. He had a face but he wasn’t there.
Today (sometime) they may take his body off life support. They put tape over his eyes so he would look less like a corpse when we saw him last night. I thought it was nice that they keep him shaved. What an icky job, shaving the faces of the dead. Sounds like a horror movie title.
I don’t know why people feel the need to visit dead people. Do they think the conversation will be good? Do they wonder what dead people look like? I, myself, had no curiousity about any of it. Peer and family pressure and now I have seen a corpse. I did not touch it, however. It stinks.
It’s amazing how much of a funeral and related service are about pleasing other people. It’s really annoying me immensely that my Mother is thinking about what will please other people when it isn’t their dad/ husband that is dead. Let them rot. Last night she started discussing what I would wear. I will wear whatever I feel like wearing. If I want to I’ll wear flaming red. Go to hell if you don’t like it.
Anyway, they are all kind of annoyed with me. I’m not being the proper deadside daughter. I think I should take out my brain and just give it to them. No one really likes when you have a mind of your own.
You might think things would be better once he is officially dead. But, no. I can see it will just get uglier. Our own brand of Survivor.