Journalling to cope in Vulnerability

Thankyou to everyone whom took the time to send your sympathy for me about my dad's passing.  It's certainly been a tough 48 hours, and I can't believe how much has happened in such a short amount of time.

First of all, it just doesn't feel real.  It should, but it doesn't.  I put that down to me being in the first stage of grief, which I believe is denial.  I've been very up and down with my emotions.  Even from the moment in that room with him where I'd thought his breathing had stopped, and my heart just sank.  I'd mentioned it to my Aunty Vicki (whom was still in the room at that point in time) and her advice to me was, "Get ready to brace yourself." Of course that set my anxiety off even more, and I really wasn't sure if I'd be able to even do this.  My whole body was screaming at me to go home and not witness him pass.  But I just couldn't do that to my mum.  And then when it did happen, my older brother first noticed how slow my dad's breathing had gotten, and my sister and I headed over, and my mum went to use the bathroom, and we told him we loved him and that it was okay to let go, and mum came out of the bathroom as his breath was extremely slow, and then she lay next to him again and it just... ceased.  Mum was shaking him.  What surprised me was that the sudden sinking feeling I'd had prior, didn't occur at all.  I was still shocked, of course.  I hadn't witness someone die right in front of me before, and it happened to be my dad.  From the August 3rd first diagnosis to his last breath on November 22nd, a lot of special family moments and memories happened in that time.  He gave us life advice and a kiss on my cheek when we first got his diagnosis and we went to some of his favourite places, to the news that his scan was clear and it probably giving him and the rest of us hope again, to him being back in the hospital and losing his cognitive function and the MRI showing the cancer was now in his brain, and that meant that was that.  He held on just over another two weeks after that final diagnosis.  What a fucking rollercoaster.

I woke up yesterday morning to the family sitting at the kitchen table going through photos, already picking out photos for the funeral.  I somehow slept the last two nights, but tonight I'm struggling.  And I believe I know why it is.  There was talk today of the funeral being held on my birthday.  I have voiced my concern with this.  If I have to put my dad in the ground on my birthday, I am going to go home after the funeral and drink until I can't drink anymore.  And I barely even drink.  

Today we all drove into Brisbane to see my uncle Dale (dad's brother) who is in hospital with a shattered spine.  It has been caused by a blood cancer also, but it's all very confusing, and has had him flat on his back for the past three months now.  Naturally, my aunty and cousins are terrified after seeing that my dad has just passed, and are fearing the same for their dad.  So we surprised him with a visit today.  It was good to see him.  Sadly, because he can't move, he will have to live-stream his brother's funeral.  Whenever that will be.  I'm just hoping it won't be on my birthday.  We are having the meeting with the funeral director tomorrow to see what dates they can do it.  Everyone has to align and that's the shit thing.  The pastor could also do either this coming Friday, or the following one.  Mum thinks the first option is too soon and the latter is too late.  My brother has to round up his kids and it takes over two days to drive here from north Queensland.  My birthday falls in between those dates on the Wednesday this year, so it's not looking good for me.  I've voiced my concern and that's all I can do.  

When we got back from Brisbane, I went with Aunty Vicki to a memorial service at the cemetery here.  The town does this every year for those whom have passed, and as two of my past schoolmates (Sean and Brandon) are in that cemetery, as well as Lukas (who was the son of good friends of my parents), it was a perfect opportunity to go and pay my respects.  I visit their graves when I'm out here anyway.  It was held by the same pastor who will do dad's funeral.  Lucas' parents invited us all over to their house last night for dinner, which was a lovely lasagna.  I found it crazy that I was in Lucas' house.  We used to attend the same church in Brisbane, although we were never close.  We just knew each other was gay.  He died whilst he was living in London, and the reason was never revealed, although Vicki says it was something drug-related so the (very religious) family don't like to talk about it.  Anyway, it was just crazy to me that I was in his parents house, seeing all these photos in frames of Lukas, as well as his younger brother Zac, whom are distant relatives somewhere down the line.  Both of them were and are beautiful boys.  I had to be careful not to say anything because I remember Zac getting up me once because he wasn't out to his parents yet, and in still not sure if he is!  That's so strange to me, since I came out to my parents 21 years ago.  I couldn't imagine still being closeted.  So yeah, it was nice being at the memorial and seeing all three boys photos on the memorial screen.  I was thankful when they decided to leave straight away too, since I didn't really know anyone.

Anyway, just wanted to update again, since I can't sleep.  I must admit, I got a shock when I opened up Prosebox and there were 32 comments.  I've never been that popular lol.  It's just a shame it happened to be such a depressing entry.

I'll be so thankful to finally get home after this meeting tomorrow.  I need some sense of normality, until I have to come back for the funeral.  I have the stress of the apartment I'm in being sold too.  Naturally, I won't be going into work, so I'll have too much time to think and still feel like my dad hasn't died.  Grief is SO weird.  Such an uncomfortable feeling, at least for me.  I feel like it has to be my anxiety disorder on top of all of this, so I feel like I'm crazy again.  The disassociation is very real.  My therapist can get fucked for saying it isn't real.  It very much is.  I'm so up and down with my emotions and I have cried at different times to my mum and my brother, and vice versa.  I'll know more after the meeting in a few hours.  At which I will be tired at, since I'm unable to sleep right now.  I thought journalling may help.