Dearest Rachel –
I hope it didn’t sound like I was teasing my sister when I referred to the fact that she was taking care of all the administrative work behind dad‘s funeral arrangements as her means of coping with his passing. To be sure, teasing is one of the main duties of being a sibling (not that you or Daniel would know anything about that), but these moments are hardly the time for that. But as I wasn’t there to take care of that – and in any event, she’s much better at that sort of organization to begin with, and actually likes it; she’s a teacher, after all, when she could have easily taken over Dad’s sales office – the tasks fell to her, and she took to it heroically. I have nothing but respect for her doing so, as these things need to be done within a certain timeframe; that she stepped up to take care of these things is nothing short of admirable.
That being said, I do rather wonder if busyness is a coping mechanism; not just for her specifically, but for all of us in a moment like this. Just keep yourself busy doing something – anything – and the grief won’t overtake you if you move fast enough.
Besides, it’s not as if there isn’t always something to keep yourself occupied. I admit I can’t speak for Daniel on this, but after three weeks away from the office, I’ve fallen way behind on the finances, both for the church and personally speaking. I just sent off half a month’s worth of bill payments this morning that I still have to record in my checking spreadsheet. Meanwhile, while I managed to complete the financials for the church yesterday, there’s about a fortnight’s camp registrations that I need to catch up with as well. There is plenty in the way of responsibilities that, upon being hit with a moment such as this, still need to be dealt with.
Even in the moment itself, there are things that need to be done. Tomorrow will see Mom, Jenn and myself off to Pastor Scott for some of the details of what to include in his eulogy for Dad, and then to the cemetery to inform them that the plot needs to be dug, I suppose. Jenn and I were looking at floral arrangements yesterday, although I’m not sure that we’ve committed to any one specific one yet; we’ve certainly not gone so far as to make a purchase. Meanwhile, I have a eulogy of my own yet to write up; while I’ve put together a skeletal structure that kept me awake one night aboard ship, I’ve yet to put the meat on the bones, so to speak, and determine whether or not I’m stepping on the toes of anyone else that might be speaking (even as I plan to make light of the fact that Dad made it plain that there was to be no “open mike” situation at his memorial service, as it might otherwise go on until Independence Day – my words, not his).
So we all keep ourselves busy in the wake of his passing, and I wonder if, while it’s understandable that things need to be done, and done quickly in certain cases, we don’t pour ourselves into the work in order to keep from having to think to hard about what we’re actually having to deal with. When we stop moving, are we going to sink?
It’s something that bleeds over into this particular task that I’ve set myself, of writing to you each day. Yes, this means you’re front and center in my mind for at least an hour or so every day of my life, but in communing with you like this about each of my days that pass without you, is this enabling me to put off truly dealing with your absence? And are the efforts I go through, the places I go to, the things I do, to make those days interesting, just another means of running away from it all? And for that matter, what am I running from?
This is the stuff I don’t think about often enough; but when I do, I can’t seem to come up with answers to those questions. So maybe it’s understandable that I put them aside, and focus on the many tasks, both real and self-imposed, that are at hand. They need to get done, after all, and if I don’t have an answer, maybe it will come to me as I spend my time elsewhere. And if they don’t, I can’t let it bother me; at least, not until everything is finished – not as if it ever will, as there will always be something that ‘needs’ doing.
But for the time being, please keep an eye on all of us, honey, and wish us well. We’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 