aftermath

I feel like one of those rumba vacuum cleaners that just bang around into the walls aimlessly. Not really knowing what to do at this point.

My mother had no funeral nor wake nor service.  I can't explain how I feel but it feels empty. This seems to be the "new" thing that is done these days. No funeral nor wake. Maybe because of the massive expense or maybe because people can't cope this drawn out ritual .The same thing happened to my friend Marilee. I still find it "wanting".

Regardless, I understand and respect my mum's decision.

 I spent yesterday digging up old photos and put them in a collage along with a police troll doll, his license plate from his beloved truck and a small wooden house jewelry box he made. I displayed them in my living room. Some of the photos made me laugh because most of the photos I have of him is of being a wise ass smiling. One of my favorite pics is one when he looks about 30 years old with flour all over his face, another with him standing in front of his ford fairlane, and one standing next to me with me in my dive gear after diving in the GOT.

Life hadn't been easy for the past 20 or more years as he slipped down a path of mental decline. Horrendous monumental temper tantrums, pathological kleptomania, alcohol abuse and treacherous irrational behavior. I go through stages of both anger and sadness.

I try to focus on the funny and good stuff.

If there is a heaven I hope he driving around in a big ass truck with "Tony" (his dog)along Hampton beach listening to some sports event along with his mum.