Last night
I read the saddest post. It was from a girl whose dad passed away two years ago
and by that time she decided not to see his dad in the coffin… Now she was
regretting she didn’t.
When it happened
to me I knew I didn’t want to see my dad’s body. I didn’t want that memory, I
wanted to remember the last time I saw him, even if it was at the hospital, he
kissed me, said he loved me… That’s my dad, not the body lying on a coffin. I
made my decision although a lot of people couldn’t understand it. My sister in
particular tried to force me, I resisted and kept crying outside the freaking
building. This decision is probably one of the few I made in my life that I don’t
regret a beat, not for a second I’ve had second thoughts.
I honestly
believe when we pass, only the body passed, it becomes an empty casket and the
traces of the person that lived in that body disappear. I have cried in front
of my dad’s grave many times, including the day after my wedding when I went
there to bring him flowers from my bouquet, but I knew he wasn’t there. I know
my dad is taking care of us, I feel his presence, especially in church (Catholics
believe that during celebrations all saints, angels and dead people from
heaven, are present during the mass). That’s why even having huge doubts about
my faith, which I steel have, being angry at God for playing me, for taking my
dad away, I kept going to church.
I tried to
explain to that person that she made the right thing, that her dad was not in
there, that he remained with her… And her honest answer was “I think I’ll
regret it anyway if I had done it the other way. I just regret not having him
here.” The amount of pain is so palpable… I can easily relate to what she’s
saying and I truly hope she gets stronger as time goes by because there’s not
really a way to make peace with it.
