Friday was May 2nd. It was a Friday, which I generally dislike because it was the day of the week on which my Dad died; and it was the 2nd day of the month, which I generally dislike because it was the day of the month on which my Dad died. Having not yet experienced both of those "milestones" (for lack of a better term) landing on the same day since The Day, I found myself cautiously dreading Friday, May 2nd. Which I do realize wasn't helping myself at all, psychologically or spiritually. I tried to treat it like any other day, but it was just there at the forefront of my mind all day, and the tears were just welled up under the surface and ready to let go for any reason.
So of course I was scheduled to work in the office that day! I had a good cry on the drive to work. I was scheduled to be training/overseeing a new employee, who has actually been there a week or so now and didn't need direct-direct supervision so I worked from my own office which was both a blessing and a curse. One of my officemates was there in the morning, which was good because then I could keep myself focused on work and not crying, but then they left to go work from home in the afternoon, which was good because I wanted to be alone but I also didn't want to be alone.
I won't recount the whole entire day. It was relatively uneventful, just heavy with feelings for me; feelings of not knowing exactly what to do about how I felt. Feelings of Damn, I thought I was doing okay but this has me totally uprooted again.
So I did what any normal (hahaha) person would do: I Googled the address of the person who bought my Dad's Tahoe and drove by their house on the way to my Mom's after work (to take her to run some errands) so I could at least see my Dad's old truck again. That's normal, right? Don't answer that. I know it's not. But I needed to do SOMETHING. It was either that or drive past the nursing home, and I wanted to see something that had good memories attached to it. (And before you think I'm a super serial stalker, my Mom sold the Tahoe to their neighborfriend's brother, who lives about a mile from their house; they have a super memorable last name, so it was easy to remember and Google. And for all I knew it was parked in a garage and I wouldn't be able to see it, anyway.)
I saw it once parked on the street near my parent's house. The Tahoe. Wasn't expecting that. I loved it! Loved seeing it parked there, loved seeing it out and about.
I also loved seeing it when I drove by it's new owner's house. Still looking beautiful and clean and new even though it's like 20 years old. It wasn't quite the same since it has different license plates (my Dad had Purple Heart plates on it, so we got to keep them. Otherwise in Minnesota, the plates do go with the vehicle) and the guy added a different decal on the back window, but it still has the Dale Earnhardt dealership badge on the back that I really wanted to take off and keep before it sold (but they couldn't get it off so I had to settle for not getting to keep it) and it still has the "God needed a driver" #3 decal on the driver's side back window. So it was familiar enough that I'm glad I saw it but still didn't make me so upset that I had a breakdown right then and there. Which is just what I needed.
Oh, and the guy owns a security company, so I really wasn't worried about what he'd think about me driving by and looking at his truck, and then turning around and looking at it again. I'm sure I was on video somewhere. I didn't get out of my car, just drove by and slowed down. If someone is going to get mad because someone wanted to look at their late father's former vehicle on the 9-month anniversary of his passing, well, they can go ahead and get mad.
But I was just edgy all weekend. On the verge of crying over everything. Nothing I did was right. It seemed like everytime someone asked me to do something, they were mad at me or criticizing me and I just wasn't in the mood for it.
On top of that, we went to my husband's uncle's memorial service on Saturday. I was so very tempted to call out on the grounds that I was too emotional due to it being so close to a milestone of my own Dad's death, but in the end I couldn't bring myself to do that. Besides, I went to his other uncle's funeral just a few days after my Dad died, so, that didn't seem like a valid reason. I'M KIDDING. I mean I'm not kidding because his uncle (his mom's sister's husband) really did pass away the day before my Dad and I did go to his funeral which was just a few days after my Dad died. And I know that if I really was upset, I could've stayed home from his mother's brother's memorial service on Saturday. But it was more important to be there for my hubby and his family. I'm glad I went. I knew it would be. It was better to be around people than holed up at home where I probably just would've stewed and cried. And maybe blogged about it.
Crabby. I just realized, that's the word I've been wanting to use instead of annoyed. Oh, well. It is what it is.
But it's weird when you hear other people talk about things related to your loved one's death and things about it, though, isn't it? It's one of those things that makes it "more real".
My "for instance" is that in a group conversation recently, someone said something my inheriting the Lincoln from my Dad.
My first gut instinct was to argue that point. I didn't "inherit" the Lincoln; he gave it to me. It's basically been my car forever, or the last 15-20 years anyway. It's just been at my parents' house and in my Dad's garage and still in his name because we didn't have a good place to keep it. And I haven't driven it because it's been needing some work. That we haven't done because we didn't have a place to keep it so we just left it where it was.
I didn't inherit the Lincoln. It's been meant to be mine forever.
I didn't inherit the Lincoln. People only inherit things when other people die and no one else wants them. My mom doesn't want to keep the Lincoln because she doesn't drive and because forever Dad had been saying that he's going to give me the Lincoln; we just had never made it official.
Until he died. Oh, shit. I did "inherit" the Lincoln.
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