The week was all about my dad. Father, Grandfather, Papa…and a proud Air Force Veteran…

Maybe you can see it. The white fingertips on the black coffin. Those were made by one of the members of the military honor guard at my father’s funeral. The pallbearers left their boutonniere’s on top on top of the casket. The hearse is in the background. What you can’t see is the rain. This photo and the ones below are from Friday’s funeral. I’m  backdating the post, because I shut down my computer for the week, which meant I didn’t blog for all those days. But now, I want to catch up and share with you what happened in my life, and what the authors who were scheduled to appear wanted to share with you over those missing days.

All my father’s children came to the funeral. As well, all the “grands” and most of the “greats” were there to see him laid to rest. Mom couldn’t have been happier about that. Or more proud of this moment…

It was a hard week. And we let many things slide because every bed was filled in our house, and every night was spent in great company, eating wonderful food provided by our extended family. On Friday night, we had a wake at the house. There was beer and wine, a guitar came out and the living room was filled with our voices. There was a lot of laughter after a week filled with many, many tears.

Had to share this photo of the 5-year-old. No gray or black for her. She wanted to wear her “graduation” dress — the dress she’ll wear when her dad graduates from the police academy in a few weeks. She was a ray of sunshine in a sea of dreary color and a lovely symbol of our hope for the future of my father’s most cherished legacy — his family.

The funeral’s set for Friday. The family is gathering. Because my parents had a burial policy and a funeral home already selected, there’s not a lot of stress involved with the “arrangements.” It’s nice to know family is ready to converge, but at the same time, I crave quiet.

My dd and my sister have been gems. Both working so hard to get ready for company and organize dad’s “effects”. Mom’s been making lists of relatives to call and agencies to inform. My sister has already written what she wants to say at his funeral, and I haven’t been able to organize a thought about what I would say. I won’t. I’ll be there, but I don’t want to be. They’re eager to honor him, but I want to climb into a deep dark hole and sleep. And I feel guilty about that and the fact I haven’t cried as much as they have.

While everyone efficiently went through his clothing to see what family members might use and what might be donated, I wanted to shoo them all from the room, because they were moving too fast for me. I did have the thought that I wanted some of his shirts, ones I remember he wore a lot because I needed to keep something, and I thought…pillows. Just to cling a while longer, because everyone else is so eager to purge. Or that’s the way it feels to me. And now, I don’t want them to read this, but I’ll leave it anyway and hope they don’t.

All I can think is that, like with Grandma, I’m thankful he needed me at the end. I was here when shit hit the fan. I called the ambulance. I tended the sores on his feet for months, cleaning them, bandaging them. I made him breakfasts and brought him coffee. I don’t have to say words over him. I won’t. When they are all gone, I’ll be here for Mom.

Okay, so there’s a tear. Two. Three. I’m done. I just have to get through Friday.

Well, I didn’t. So, when my granddaughter erupted in vomit on Friday night (somehow, she was the only one in her immediate family who didn’t get the shot), I knew I was in trouble. I took her to the doctor where we waited with a good thirty other people there for the same reason. She has her meds and is doing better. I lucked out and only got a mild case—no “Vesuvial” eruptions, but a major case of the aches—head, joints—and general queasiness all weekend long. Here’s hoping you didn’t procrastinate and got that shot!

“There comes a time in a man’s life when to get where he has to go—if there are no doors or windows—he walks through a wall.”
~Bernard Malamud

And of course a picture of a wall is boring, so maybe I have a door after all…
Point is, when you’re feeling blocked—by whatever—get creative about how you break out!

I lost a whole day! I had a procedure scheduled. Ahem, it involved roto-rooting and you get it every 10 years when you reach a certain age… Anyway, it started three hours late. The drugs lingered, and lingered, and lingered. I mostly slept on the long drive home. When I got home around five, I headed straight to bed and didn’t stir until the early morning hours, thus I am writing this blog a little after midnight, but I think it still counts as yesterday, so I didn’t miss my post!

Good news? I’m healthy for a 60-year-old. Or so the doctor told me, probably to make me feel better about the fact I have to go seem him every three years now! The nurse did a double-take on my age. I told her “fat don’t crack, but I really am 60.” I had three polyps, which he removed, and I have a couple small developing diverticula—so no more popcorn or poppy seeds for me. Sucks, because I LOVE popcorn. 🙁

What’s Saturday going to look like? No clue. There’s fencing to replace (mu SIL and sis will tackle that) and my dd has to have her hot water heater replaced (I’ll be with her for that because she’s weird about having strangers in her house (everyone has a phobia, right?). But here’s hoping I can get something done!

So, speaking of phobias… Mine is a fear of heights, although I did manage to rappel quite often during college and basic. Not sure how I managed without Xanax. What’s yours?

I wrote very few pages this month. Good news? It was a short month. I’ll have a chance to redeem myself in March.

February was complicated with my dad in the hospital for another stint. He’s home now, thank goodness. House repairs. Illness. Appointments. Life. Lots of excuses. None of them good enough.

What did I actually get done?

• Edits on two other authors’ works
• Revisions and more pages on a project for Entangled
• Selections for Stranded stories made, announcement, contracts sent

Yes, February was that pathetic. With no release! Which means, if I want to get back to the plan, March will be horrifically busy.

This is the list:

• Two novellas and a short story (Yeah, just shoot me.)
• Edits for Stranded stories
• 2d round edits for two authors’ manuscripts
• 1st round edits on a partial story for another author
• Box set collated and published

Yes, that’s quite enough. Too much. Something will fall off the calendar. I hope not multiple somethings.

The issue is focus and energy. Maybe I’m dragging ass because it’s nearing the end of winter, and the lack of sunshine is finally taking a toll. Maybe the problem is that I’m letting family insert themselves with no pushback from me. I have to set boundaries, and then I have to be the first one to respect those boundaries. They don’t nag; I simply start thinking about what I might be missing, and I close out the screen, telling myself I’ll work later, but later never comes. So, it’s really all my fault. And I tend to work best in my “manic” phases, when I start to panic over the lack of productivity and what that means to sales. Having to support myself is a huge motivator. Not so different for you, right?

So, any ideas how I can keep my BICHOK–Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard?