My father died in Asia

by super

My father died in Asia – last minute I had to bolt to his funeral. Packing my bags, she lay there in bed and said: “I feel like you’re just going on vacation…” – this was really upsetting.

After his funeral (Buddhist) where I had to clean his week old black and blue zombie face with palms and coconut oil, watch him doused in gas from a Gerry can, and get set on fire with fireworks from a Watt she called me and started lighting me up about our credit card debt, and told me I shouldn’t care so much because he was a shit father anyway…

The next day I had to pick his bones out, put them in an urn, dress his ashes in clothes after shaping them into the shape of a body, and drop his ashes into a hole in a trash-ridden unmarked grave in a small jungle wood area. Carrying his ashes to the jungle for some reason gave me enough of an existential jolt to think “what the fuck am I doing?” – took a year of deliberation, but I finally decided I deserved a more supportive partner.

You may also like

Leave a Comment