Chapter Thirty-Seven
Delilah
I just felt strange. That was the only way I could describe how I felt after my father finally died. Grieving someone when they’re still alive and you knew they wouldn’t ultimately survive was exhausting.
My emotional state felt gray, and I was tired and irritable on top of it. I also felt guilty because I hadn’t called Alex yet. My father had only died the night before. I’d spent the night with my mother, and it hadn’t felt right to call him then.
Now, it was the following afternoon, and I was at the funeral home helping to make plans. I’d gotten myself psyched out. I needed to call him and let him know what happened.
“Do you know if your mother would like a casket? Or are you planning to have him cremated?” the gracious funeral director asked.
This man
