Shopping at Costco

I am pretty sure that the primary method my brain has of dealing with anything bad is denial.  I guess I'm just discovering that lately because when I start thinking about my dad, thinking about stuff I miss, I keep thinking "oh it's not really true, and no, he's not really dead."  Even though I know it is true.  Even just typing it, doesn't seem quite possible.  He was young to die.  And I wasn't done talking to him.  See, we were going to have lunch.  I keep having those moments of things I'd talk to him about, and I think about how I didn't call him as much the last few years because our conversations would always be about the same, him bitching about his mom.  And it was the same retread of things that he'd told me before.  And I wouldn't say that I'd give anything for one of those conversations again, but I do wish I could ask him a few things.

I went to Costco after work, and I wanted to check out how long my membership would last, because I'm on my dad's second card.  It is paid out until September, and they just went ahead and switched it so that I'm the primary card holder.  But at some point in September, I'm going to have to start paying for the membership myself.  I think he gave me the card originally when I was a senior in college.  Weird to think of that.  And looking around, looking at books that he would have bought and sent me, and items I might have mentioned to him, and now couldn't.  I guess we didn't have a lot of philosophical discussions, but we did talk about what you could buy at Costco, and at Trader Joe's.  If I believed in an afterlife, I might surmise he'd be up there, looking through the aisles at random crap for sale.  That makes as much sense as anything else, right?

I am reminding myself that it's only been over a week, and that this was such a huge shock, particularly since I was the one who essentially found him (though thankfully I called the cops who found him and I didn't actually have to see the body because I'm not sure I could get that sight out of my head).  It wasn't like I received a call and got on a plane to go down there.  I was there.  I actually am pretty sure this is one of the more traumatic things that has happened to me, certainly one of the most traumatic things recently in my very-sedate life that avoids trauma.  I am starting to feel like the last week and a half is something of a blur and I need to wake up and move forward from it.