The Aftermath Is Choppy.
This is the picture we used for the funeral program
Well, it's midnight and I can't sleep, because I'm thinking about my dead husband, and that, after all, is what this blog is for.
I wrote a few days ago about the night Dan died. I'm going to pick it up from there and write about the aftermath. It's going to be choppy, because I'm pretty sure I wasn't all there, and I remember it in chunks, which are not necessarily in sequential order, but I will do my best.
"This is not my life, this is not what happens to me. This is not my life, this is not what happens to me."
I kept saying that phrase over and over and over. I think it was the only thing I could think of to say. I think I called my dad. I vaguely remember calling my dad. I remember that when he got there he held me with such force we practically fell over, and I collapsed into his arms saying my phrase over and over again. He held me for a long time.
I guess we decided we had to call people. I have no idea what time it was. One AM? Two AM? Three? It was the middle of the night. I don't know who made phone calls to family, but it wasn't me.
I called a lady from our church so that she could let the pastor and other church members know. I chose her because her husband died when her baby girl was a year old. Somehow I knew she would understand, I knew she was the one I should call. I don't remember what I said to her. Her baby, by the way, is my age and one of my best friends.
My sister wanted to know if we should call one of my best friends who lived 4 hours away. I said yes, to call her. A few minutes later my sister was asking if I wanted my friend to come down right now, or in the morning. I said morning was fine, and she was at my house before noon the next day.
The funeral home came and took Dan away. Police officers talked to me. I don't remember what they said.
I have no idea if baby girl was awake during all of this, or not. At some point Dan's parents and brother decided to go home. My sisters and dad slept on the living room floor, and Baby Girl and I went to bed. We didn't sleep, either of us. Baby Girl stayed awake from the moment we told her that her daddy died, sometime around one AM, to when she went to bed the next night at nine PM. I was awake even longer.
I have a Facebook chat with three more of my best friends. We talk every single day. A million times a day. Our phones are always pinging from each other. I couldn't bear to call them, so instead I wrote this message. It is one thing that is forever etched in my brain.
"I'm sorry I know I should call you but I just can't. Dan had a seizure. I called 911. They tried to save him but they couldn't. He died, Dan died."
I know, it was real classy to tell them like that.
The next morning we got up and had to call more people. My dad called Dan's boss. I have no idea what he said.
I called our two best friends from college. All through college the four of us did everything together. One lives in a different time zone so I wanted to catch her before she went to work. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I remember crying and crying on the phone with her, and she kept saying my name over and over again. She said she was coming to me.
The other one also lives in a different state. Dan was supposed fly down there for work the day after he died, and they were going to have dinner together. I was very worried about how she would react because she was nine months pregnant. I don't remember what I told her, something about how Dan wouldn't be able to go to dinner with her. He had died.
I knew people would start arriving, so my sisters and I cleared off the dining room table. And then people were there. People were everywhere. I remember feeling like with each person I greeted I had to start crying all over again. So they would know I was sad I guess. I don't really know what that was about.
My sister called Baby Girl's school and told them what had happened.
I remember doing regular things. Baby Girl and I went outside and fed the animals. I mean they had to be fed, right? She had lots of friends show up, so she played with them a lot and would periodically come to check on me.
People were everywhere. They wanted me to do stuff I thought was utterly ridiculous, like eat and take a nap. Like either of those were going to happen. Because they kept telling me to, I tried to eat some breakfast someone made me. I literally started choking on the eggs because I started crying.
Dan loved eggs.
The funeral home called. They wanted me to come down and make arrangements. It was around ten AM and Dan had died fewer than 10 hours before. I said,
"Today? I have to do that today?"
"Yes," they said. "Three o'clock."
People. Lots of people.
It was time to tell the world. I made a post on Dan's Facebook wall, and mine. I don't have to look it up. I remember exactly what I said. It was carved into my heart with a knife as I was typing the words.
"This is Jenny. It is with an excruciating sad heart that I have to tell you Dan passed away extremely suddenly and unexpectedly last night."
Some of the people and I went into my room to find clothes, to take to the funeral home for Dan. I was looking for a specific black button down shirt. Black was Dan's go-to color. He loved wearing black. Black shirt, black slacks, black shoes, black tie. When he did that he loved quoting a line from Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash movie. Someone tells Johnny,
"You look like you're going to a funeral," and Johnny replies,
"Well, maybe I am."
We said those lines every time Dan wore black. which was a lot. Dan would be going to his own funeral all in black just like he liked.
I couldn't find the stupid shirt. It wasn't in the closet, it wasn't in his packed suitcase. I dug and dug through the dirty clothes in a panic looking for his stupid shirt. Finally I found it and someone put it in the wash.
I cried a lot.
Around noon I got another phone call. I will write all about it in another blog because it's a complicated story. Let's just say that phone call ended with me screaming into the phone,
"He's dead he's dead he's dead!"
Someone took the phone out of my hands and I cried so hard I started choking. I almost threw up. After that they tried to make me take a nap. It didn't happen.
It was decided that Dan's parents, one of Dan's brothers, my best friend, my dad, and my pastor would all go to the funeral home with me. Baby Girl wouldn't let me leave without her (lest I up and die too,) so Baby Girl, my sister, my friend, and my friend's kids all came too, and played at the park next door to the funeral home.
I remember two things from the funeral home.
1: They asked me a million questions that I didn't have answers to.
2: At one point I was crying so hard I could barely see. I couldn't think. I looked behind me and my best friend was there, smiling at me. I said,
"I don't want to do this anymore," and she said,
"Hey, it's not the funnest date we've ever been on!"
We call it "dates" when we get to hang out with each other, and for some reason that made me feel better.
I promised baby girl a milkshake so we walked to a nearby restaurant and got milkshakes and fries. I don't think any of us ate them.
We got home and there were more people there. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I just sat on the couch and stared while people went on around me. Baby Girl finally went to sleep. My friends helped get me to bed, and I guess I fell asleep.
That was the first day without Dan.
Comments
Post a Comment