kasey (allthingsshiny) wrote,

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what do you call a funeral party

I used to spill over with words, used to write about the intricacies of daily life like they mattered to anyone but me. It's hard to write anymore. Anything over 140 characters seems exhausting and superfluous. Now that I can update the moment-by-moment happenings of my day from my phone anywhere, anytime, what's the point of summarizing?

But there is a point ... i like being able to look back and get a clear picture. To tag the landmarks of my life for review and further education. Now I just make notes like scraps of paper ... inconsequential and lost in the wind.

Maybe I need to bring back this old habit?

Life is ok right now. I miss my dad every day, though it truly has been years since he was wholly my dad. I will admit, when the bad days outnumbered the good days, I didn't visit as much. I couldn't take it. Charles said I would regret it, that I would wish I had spent as much time as possible with him, but I don't regret it. I am happiest remembering him as he was in his prime - smart, funny, sharp-tongued and happy.

The "service" was huge. My dad had not wanted a funeral, so we had a party. There is no official count, but somewhere between 500-600 people showed up. Jason Rupert started up his nitro car after Andy, Brad, and I said some words. That was hard ... to go in front of this group of friends, family, racers, and strangers, and to try and convey how proud I was to be my father's daughter, how much he meant to me.

I worry about my mom. She fakes being ok like I do.

The National Dragster that I pulled out of the mailbox today has a full page picture of my dad's 1974 Air Force-sponsored funny car. I cried when I saw it. He did such amazing things, and what am I? How do I live up to that legacy?

Working today on cleaning, trying to get the house fixed up. House fixing up costs money, but cleaning is almost free. Got a new garbage disposal today ($80), new screen doors will have to wait until next paycheck. Pity, such nice weather lately to leave the doors open. Charles has been working on his bike all day. I hate his bike and am sure that it is cursed, but he loves it no matter how many times he has to weld it.
Tags: domesticity, family, races

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