Post-Funeral Recovery

I slept for 11 hours last night. There's a kind of post-funeral fatigue that is difficult to describe to anybody who has not had the misfortune of experiencing it firsthand. It's like staying up for a week and then carrying a wet sheepdog up a mountain in 100 degree heat. Adrenaline will only carry you so far before you crash and slip into a coma.

At the church service, I chose to sit with my mother-in-law's boyfriend of five years rather than the rest of the family. He's 96-years-old. They got together after both of their long-time spouses had passed away. I think finding each other is the main reason they both continued to want to live even though their life partners were gone. They went to church together every Saturday, Atlantic City a few times a month and had regular dinners at the neighborhood diner. Some days he'd come over just to watch television which I'm sure also included lots of chair napping. He's a good guy and I hope he lives well into his 100's.

Even though it was a sad event, it was great seeing most of our neices, nephews and great-nieces and nephews. Four of the older ones are in college with two others not far behind. They are all such good-looking, decent, respectable human beings with highly developed senses of humor. We weren't sure if it would be inappropriate to take photographs at the post-funeral luncheon but, since we didn't know when they would all be in the same room together again, we decided to do it anyway.

Our two-year-old great-niece was a big hit. Personally, I like having little children at funerals as long as they are young enough not to be traumatized by the situation. Toddlers at funerals keep the grown-ups happy.

Then, of course, you also have to deal with the family members who you don't want to see which adds an entirely different level of stress to the proceedings. Ah, family politics.

Just thinking about yesterday makes me want to sleep for another 11 hours.