I'm feeling better physically. I do believe this Marshall Protocol is working. Everyone keeps telling me how well I look. My light sensitivity is much better, my joints aren't so stiff and today I laid down plastic in our crawl space in preperation for the insulation. My husband and I are planning on drywalling his office in the next couple days.
Mentally I'm okay, considering. I feel...Lonely? Homesick? Something like that. My father is still hanging on, but I haven't lived with him since I was ten years old, so I don't feel him as a parent.
I asked to see my mother's body when we went to the funeral home. I wish now I had taken a memento mori photograph. I keep replaying that moment in my mind for comfort. She hadn't been embalmed, nor in any way prettified. Given the suddeness of her death, I think I was expecting to see some evidence of trauma. The funeral director gave us a little talk about how she was likely to look given that she was unprepared. He visibly relaxed when I said I was an EMT and this was not my first body. Just the first one I was related to.
He opened the double doors to a side room and first I saw her feet covered with a sheet. I almost turned away, then. Two more steps and I was able to see her chest and hips under the sheet--I realized that I wouldn't be able to bear it if she was covered with a sheet and the funeral director had to pull it back like a Law and Order body ID scene.
Another step took me around the corner. Her face was visible. Ashen and slack. Her mouth was slightly open as if in sleep. The funeral director had swaddled her body as though it were a baby, covering the marks of the autopsy. She was a little dehydrated but otherwise she looked as she always did. I'd seen her come out of her gall bladder surgery looking worse. I was glad of the way she was covered--looking so much like the way we come into the world. And somehow it was dignified in a way that a public viewing would not have been. I shared that moment with my husband and the funeral director the way my husband and I shared the birth of our children with our midwife.
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Okay, so can I give you a hug now, please. Because after reading that, I don't know about you, but I sure as hell need one. I can hardly see to write this. You should have put a warning on this post, Ceredwyn. That hit me much harder than I would have imagined that it would.
Your description was perfect, it made me feel like I was there. It reminded me of seeing my father's body.
God, I miss you. I can't wait to see you. Not too much longer and we'll be there.
love you.
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