my father’s funeral.
I’ve been an emotional wreck all week. That’s why I’m not blogging right now.
Well, except for right now. You get the point.
For days, I had wrangled and fought and prayed and lamented over whether I should go to his funeral, mainly because I don’t want to hurt anyone in his family, even though I do need to say goodbye.
This is an odd situation for everyone.
That was never as clear as when his son called me last night.
We talked for quite a while. We laughed, we got choked up.
We want to meet.
And he said one thing at the very end of our talk that removed all doubt about whether I should go:
“I’ve thought long and hard about this, Misty. And I want you to do what you need to do. And if you come down here and one person – anybody – gives you a hard time about being here, you tell them to come talk to me.”
My stuff is packed, and I’m wearing my Beatles “Let It Be” T-shirt.
Ironic or symbolic?
Only time will tell.