Life goes on

I buried my father on Thursday afternoon. It was, I suppose, a decent funeral as funerals go.

My first thoughts on seeing the coffin were '...such a small box...'. I remember my father as a tall, wide shouldered man. The coffin came as a shock.

I didn't really listen to the vicar; I was too numb, caught up in my own thoughts. I've decided that I really don't like burials. There is something faintly disturbing about the coffin going into the ground. I haven't worked out what it is yet.

I've never been a particularly articulate person when it comes to my own emotions, but this was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.

I'm still trying to come to terms with it. I can't control my moods any more. I find myself cycling randomly between anger, sadness and a kind of overdone happiness which comes off as fake even to me. I find this disturbing as I'm usually pretty out of touch emotionally, and its almost like I'm losing containment. I find myself having no frame of reference for dealing with how I'm feeling.

There's no real point to this post, I'm just writing things down as they occur to me.