Coping..

Someone told me that laughter is coping. Today when I laughed I tried so hard to see you laughing with me, to see you lean forward in your chair with that grin on your face, engrossed in the moment and so very entertained by the conversation.. and not at all aware of any pain or suffering, but just of that moment when we were all smiling together.

I bought your urn today, Dad. I hope you like it. When I saw it I knew it was for you.
Red Cedar, carved with an eagle done in native artwork, inlayed with abalone shell... done by local Haida artists... everything you would have found to be perfection.
I know you're not there anymore.. you're not in that body you left behind. But that body was the vessel that carried you here on earth and I need it to be respected.

They moved your body from the hospital today, well, the morgue. I wanted you out of there so badly. The ministry is helping to pay for everything, which is a relief. But I would have paid.
I had to go into your wallet today.
Your wallet.
Yours.
I nearly got sick. It's always been yours.. I've watched you take that rubber band from it with your own hands so many times, I did it just the same as you do... it felt so unnatural.
You still feel like you're here, Dad. I keep repeating.."my dad died. MY dad.. mine." It's just not real. I wake at night and look over my shoulder and expect to see you standing there.