So this funeral is massive. 700 people expected. Have organised overflow rooms and screens and marquees (see previous post) and car guards and and and....
And I really don't want to be here.
Can think of a million reasons to run away.
Funny, the thing that bothers me the most is the coffin. Again with my vast knowledge of these kinds of things (NOT) I understand the need for a coffin, the need to be sure that he really is gone, the need for closure that people can stop saying that "I expect him to walk through the door at any moment".
For me its just a rude reminder of what we've lost. And its not Kingsley in that box anyway. Its a dead body. End of story - he's left and gone. He's alive but elsewhere.
Can someone come rescue me please? Can I please wake up now and find it to all be a dream? Sit in the office, hear him come in and fly into Dawn's office to sort out the diary? Can I please go knock on his door and ask his advice, or sit and talk with him through some of the crazy ideas in my brain? Can I please share with him the pain I feel at people still jibing about the evening service? Can we talk through ideas for this impossible sermon I have to write for a grieving congregation on Sunday? He'd know what to say.
But no. I'm sitting listening to people discuss cabling for screens and toilet paper for 700 people. In less than three hours I'll be listening to people talk about him in some distant way... as though he is no more.
I've started listening to his sermons in my car. Feels like a distorted comfort right now. But hey... its a comfort just to hear his voice.
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