I went through my photos last night and found some old pictures of my dad. Found lots of other pictures, too. Greg and Jerry were all wonderful and patient and put up with me making them sit there with me as I waxed nostalgic. There were a couple rolls from the trip I took to South Africa with Dad and other family members several years ago. And a bunch from the time he took me to Japan in 9th grade. (My Dad travelled a LOT for work, and he would use frequent flier miles to take family members on trips.) I also found lots of pictures from high school, and a bunch of my Mom's side of the family, including a bunch with Harriet (my super-wonderful maternal grandmother, who passed away a few years ago; I miss her lots). It was nice. Remembering is good.
Today was the 'viewing' (or maybe 'visitation'?), which meant getting to see my Dad's body. I was expecting it to be rough, but it wasn't actually that bad. It's hard to describe. The body looked like him (except the color was really off), but it was clearly just his corpse, and not really him, if that makes any sense. I held his hand, and patted his shoulder and stuff, and I think that was important. Said I was going to miss him.
Aside: I feel like it's important to use straightforward words, like 'die' and 'body', instead of euphemisms, when talking about these things. I'm not sure why. I guess it just feels more... honest?
Most of what I did, though, was visiting with relatives. So maybe 'visitation' is the right word. We talked a lot, told lots of family stories. I brought along the pictures and everyone really enjoyed them. People mistook my Mom's baby pictures for me, and pictures of me in high school for pictures of my Dad, so I guess I know that I'm not secretly adopted or anything.
We're all doing okay. It's hit my grandmother really hard, but we're getting by.