Suddenly my focus flew away with the wind, and all I could think was that I needed a cup of tea. Our landlady had been outside water blasting the deck, and turned up at the front door minutes after I got off the phone to mum. I composed myself, dried my face, and offered her a coffee. I managed a decent conversation for about ten minutes before she packed up and left, then I tried to sit back down and continue on with my assignment. Shortly after that, dad phoned to say that George had gone. Well, shit. After blubbering for a while, eating some lunch (who knew you could cry and eat at the same time? I thought they only did that on TV with ice cream and chocolate), and generally just staring at nothing, I sat down and finished my assignment, did the most rudimentary 'revise and edit' in history, and submitted it. There was no way I could get an extension at the 11th hour and really, who cares, right? I'd done what I could, either I passed or failed. At that stage it didn't matter either way, and I really didn't want to prolong it. I still haven't looked over the assignment again to see if its actually alright - I'll get my mark in a week or two. That afternoon life, for us at least, carried on as usual - the boys played and made a lot of noise, T's friend went home, I cooked dinner, fed the boys, then herded them off to bed at the usual times. Deane had flown to Wellington for work that afternoon (the sixth week in a row if I'm not mistaken) so I had the evening to myself. I can't honestly remember what I did. Maybe I watched a movie...
Wednesday I went for a horribly difficult 10km run, thankful that I managed to hold it together. I also found out when the funeral was to be held.
Thursday I checked flights and calendar appointments and came to the conclusion that not only was it implausible that I could get down to Palmerston North and back in the small window of time I had available, it was going to cost $500 in airfares. I had to make the horrible decision to not attend. Heart-wrenching. Cue blubbering mess... I consoled myself with the fact that I had visited him just a few weeks ago, and he'd been happy.
Friday, I went and bought a sympathy card to send to my nana, and discovered that it's not a good idea to have a meltdown in the supermarket. I'd imagine a bookshop would be just as awkward. I plodded along with course work since I still had an assignment due the following Thursday, but applied for a one week extension, knowing I wouldn't be able to focus on it fully and would end up submitting a pile of garbage.
Today is Saturday. George was farewelled by friends and family this morning. The service was recorded on video for those that could not attend, so I'll get to see that at least. I managed to avoid moping around home dwelling on the situation by going to Parkrun this morning and running a PB, coming home and cooking breakfast for my family, then going shopping for a dress and shoes to wear to a wedding in three weeks time, along with the bride-to-be who has much better fashion sense than me and knows all the good designer stores (that ordinarily I would never set foot in). Once home, I proceeded to devour all food within sight, and hunted out some more. Potato chips, white bread, chocolate, ice cream... Not all of it was bad though, there was also a green smoothie, lentils, chickpeas, salad and tofu. But still... I'm giving myself this week to mope, emotional-eat (something new I discovered about myself), deal with the slightly unpleasant consequences of eating a bunch of wheat-based food items, and generally just feel crappy. Next Monday, it's game on again.
Rest in peace George, you've earned it.