Tuesday of last week was the last time I slept with my husband before this past Saturday. Despite the fact that we slept in the same bed last Tuesday, I had really only seen him in passing for over a week (I had lots of activities and had spent several days trying to spend as much time as possible with my father). My father died on Wednesday night, so I stayed Wednesday night and Thursday night with my mother. Friday night I stayed the night at church with the youth group for their lock-in.

The lock-in was fun. We had a priest visiting from a neighboring parish. He’s the youngest priest in the diocese, so I think that made him more relatable for the children. Before he started his talk with the kids, I thanked them for praying for my father Wednesday night during our youth group session. I told them he died Wednesday, but he passed as peacefully as we could have hoped. The priest then said he’d heard about my father’s passing from the priest at our parish during a penance service the night before. He said, “There’s going to be like six priests at your dad’s funeral” and started mentioning three priests and a retired bishop who had all indicated they wanted to be at my father’s funeral.

My understanding is the retired bishop is not available, but there will be four priests for my father’s funeral. That makes me happy. The first thing my mother said when I told her was, “your grandmother would be so proud.” My grandmother had two priests at her funeral and that seemed really special, so for my father to have twice as many is really amazing. One of the priests is the one who did our wedding, my grandparents’ funerals, and my oldest two children’s baptisms. Another of the priests was also involved at my grandmother’s funeral and had been to at least a couple family barbeques with our family. The fourth priest I do not know, but he’s the pastor at my uncle’s church so I guess he wanted to participate as a tribute to my uncle.

Saturday, after we were finished at the lock-in and finished with our teacher training for church, I went to a Newroz party some friends were throwing. Newroz is the Kurdish new year celebration. My friends are not Kurdish, but the husband’s dissertation was on Kurdish politics so Kurdish culture is close to his heart. They have a party every year and invite all kinds of people. It’s really amazing how they bring together so many people from so many different walks of life.

I thought I was going to wait until after the funeral to grieve, but that party reminded me of my father and how he always brought people together from all walks of life. So, I started sobbing out of nowhere and my friend had to help me round up all my kids while I was crying like a crazy person. As embarrassing as that was, I got home earlier than planned so I got to spend time with my husband. My friend who hosted the party and another friend who was at the party both texted me kind words and asked if I was ok. The next morning they sent kind texts again, checking on me to make sure I was ok.

As I laid in bed with my husband Saturday night, he mentioned that he hadn’t talked to me since my father died. So, I got to fill him in on everything that had happened the past several days. It was really nice to get that time with him.

Sunday, I went to the penance service at our church and the same young priest who had been at the lock-in with the youth group Friday night is who I went to for confession. I told him I was having a hard time trusting God. I felt like I was worrying about things I couldn’t control, instead of just trusting that God has a plan. This priest probably wouldn’t have been my first choice for confession. I told my son I would pick the priest who had the shortest line, but my son wanted to go to him and wanted me to go to the same one as him (I think the attraction for my son was that he was in the confessional, so there was an option to not have to be face-to-face with the priest–the other priests were just tucked away in corners). So, I ended up with the same priest I had spent the night with Friday night (I opted to walk around the confessional to be face-to-face). It actually probably helped that he knew the whole situation because he had lots of helpful things to say. He told me its ok to be angry at God. He said if God couldn’t handle our anger, he wouldn’t be God. After our conversation, I decided I needed to let myself grieve instead of trying to keep it together until after the funeral. I went home, cried while using our cardio machine, then cried myself to sleep that night. My husband was so kind that night. He didn’t ask what was wrong or try to get me to talk. He just held onto me and let me cry. In a way it made me even more sad though because my mother doesn’t have anyone to hold her.

I hadn’t been sleeping much for a couple weeks leading up to that, for a variety of reasons. Some nights I just couldn’t sleep. Other nights I just had a lot going on and didn’t even try to sleep until late. Sunday night I slept good and have been sleeping fairly well ever since, though I’m still not always able to lay down as early as I probably need. I haven’t been getting up early to work because I have decided I just need sleep this week, to prepare for all the emotions at the visitation and funeral.

It has been truly humbling the number of people who have been reaching out to me, checking in to make sure I’m doing ok. Today I had a meeting with one of the local bar associations and multiple people had cards for me. One was from a group of colleagues who noted my favorite restaurant didn’t have gift cards, so they just got me a visa gift card to get margaritas. The gift card was for $200 though, so hopefully they aren’t trying to kill me off with alcohol poisoning. Seems like you could get a lot of margaritas for $200. In all seriousness, I really appreciate the gesture. Another colleague got me a devotional book that references geeky things like Star Wars, Marvel, Star Trek, etc. I’m really looking forward to reading that. The ladies at church have been taking turns bringing us casseroles since Friday, which seems like an incredibly kind gesture. It has made the week less stressful, not needing to meal plan on top of trying to catch up on work and deal with all the other tasks of life, including funeral planning.

All the people checking in with me to see how I’m doing and offer support is incredibly humbling. I know my mother has some people reaching out to her too. I worry about my brother. My father was his best friend. I don’t know if he has nurtured relationships with the kinds of people who step up for you in times like this. I suppose I need to stop being so self-absorbed and start being that person for him, so he’ll feel like he has at least one person in his corner.

Saturday, the priest told me it isn’t liturgically correct to have the ashes in a casket at mass, which is what we had planned because my father specifically called each of his pallbearers and asked them to be pallbearers for him. The priest offered to let us have two carry the ashes and the other four carry personal effects that we could put on a table near the alter. The priest told me Saturday he was going to let it slide, but because there were going to be other priests there he didn’t want them to tell on him to the bishop. So, I told my mother to be thinking about what personal items she would want up by the alter.

The priest called me Monday though and told me during the penance service at our church Sunday, he learned that a nearby parish has a special casket they use for ashes and they’re willing to let us borrow it. My parents’ friends who know our priest well from his time at another parish and were present for my father’s anointing of the sick agreed to transport the casket for us. Apparently, when our priest called them to request they bring the casket, he also asked them what they could tell him about my father. I’m told they gave him a glowing review and when they were through talking about my father our priest said, “he must really have been a special guy.” I told my mother it probably sounded better and more authentic coming from them than if my mother and I were to say things like that (I’m not even really sure what they said, but I assume if we were saying nice things about him it would sound braggy).

In a weird way, I’m excited for the funeral. I got to plan most of the aspects of the mass and I will get to speak after communion (I keep practicing and its taking 8.5 minutes and I’m afraid that’s too long, but we’ll see) and we’re getting to have a luncheon that will give others a chance to share memories of my father. We were able to get a space at the local high school for the luncheon, which was a huge relief. They have microphones, so we can let people talk there and share stories/memories. They also have a screen, so I will be able to show the slideshow I made again while everyone is eating.

We went shopping for funeral clothes for the kids last night. Everyone will be in black except one of my sons opted for a black, pink, and white sort of tie-dye. My oldest son looks good in his outfit (he’s a pallbearer so they had an assigned uniform), but he says he hates wearing jeans and feels like he can’t move his knees all the way. I already had my dresses I had ordered online, but I did buy waterproof mascara in case I start crying at some point.

The visitation seems like it will be more nerve-wracking than the funeral. I’m not sure if I can stand in the receiving line for four hours, but I’ll give it a try. I’m also unsure how my kids will handle that. My aunt is making food, so at least I can shove food at my kids if they start acting crazy. I’m also a little nervous how my four-year-old will handle the funeral because it will be longer than a regular mass, which he’s not great at sitting through. I’m not sure if it will be a real spiritual moment, where he just magically pulls it together for the special occasion; or if he’ll just be yelling and chattering the whole time.

Tomorrow is my father’s birthday, so my mother, my father’s siblings, and I are going out together for a couple hours. I’m hoping we’ll be able to treat it as a celebration and not get too emotional.