What upsets me most is my own being insufficiently upset by this. Obviously, I cried over it Tuesday morning, but that was it; it didn't stop me from having one of my most productive weeks ever at work, or throwing myself with disturbing enthusiasm into smashing up the dev team's hard work since it's riddled with bugs and it's my job to show that. I'm mostly disturbed by my lack of response to this, it really should be a much bigger deal than it is to me...
I'm not attending the funeral, since it's in St. Louis and I'm not, and given his past expressed opinions on the subject it would be flat-out disrespectful to, as my grandfather put it in the past, "spend $600 to see a corpse". He's right; there are more productive things I can buy than plane fare.
I guess I'm not upset because we all knew it was coming and I, personally, feel it's for the better because his remaining quality of life was in the negative numbers. This was a very stoic, independent man, who within the last year lost the ability to care for himself to the point of not being able to use the bathroom unassisted; he was ready to die and said as much. He repeatedly told us all that he did not want to go live in a nursing home. But without any other way to care for him, we had started making plans to transfer him to one; he made the issue moot by dying instead. I sincerely believe he thought that was the more dignified thing to do, and I think he was right.
I think I did my grieving when I visited him last year, and I became confronted with just how badly age had affected his once-brilliant mind. I don't feel like giving details; I don't think I need to. I'll just say that he was not the man I knew, and forgetting where he'd been in conversation and repeating questions less than ten minutes after asking them was phenomenally depressing. He was a nuclear physicist with a large number of published papers, and was the former chairman of the physics department at my college. He used to go camping and hiking several times a year, maintaining the property he owns along a river in the Ozarks. When I last saw him, he needed help to stand and had forgotten where I worked, and had forgotten again by the end of the evening.
I gave him the right gift, though (that was his birthday party where I last saw him); an album of photos I'd taken while I was out here. I need to go back to taking more pictures again, I've fallen out of the habit, and I'm not sure when.
I don't know why I'm insufficiently upset. I feel like I should be a lot more bothered and put off from my normal routine than this. But I'm just going on, without a lot of effect. I look for emotion, and I find... closure, already. I feel like he simply chose not to continue to live, and that it was fundamentally the right choice- it left him with the most dignity when he would neither have liked nor tolerated anything that was left.
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