A surprisingly emotional day filled with blessings

The day started off at 6:20am because a little furry somebody wanted to get out of his kennel. After taking him out and throwing him a carrot as a reward, I put him back in his kennel and told him it was still "night-night". I fully expected him to revolt and start barking, but smart puppy that he is, it's like he knew that I needed more rest and he didn't protest at all. I turned the TV on and watched Fawlty Towers until I fell back to sleep. I woke up around 8:30, showered, and headed over to the seamstress to give her the material to sew my suits for the services.
I got a little teary eyed when I told her why I needed them so quickly, but was pretty proud that I didn't have a full-out break-down! Well ... that was short lived.
My sister called and said that we couldn't get the ashes today, so we'll have to wait until Wednesday to spread the ashes. According to custom, we can only spread them on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday.
I headed over to the house and got there shortly after noon. The movers gave a commitment of sometime between noon and 2 pm.
I got into the house and it was so strange to hear my own echo in there. With everything removed, there were no couches, beds, tables, or anything else to absorb the sound. Everywhere I looked, I saw my Dad. The dining room table and where we sat so many times to eat. His little three-tiered stand that was in the corner of the dining room where he had his "office". His bedroom and his bed. I went to the bathroom, and I could swear I could smell his cologne. I looked at all of the hooks he had in the medicine cabinet to hang all of his razors, scissors, toothbrushes, etc My heart and my soul felt as hollow as the house. I had an absolute break-down, and this was the first time I was alone. No Darwin, no sisters, no brother, no mom .... just me, myself, and I. I was nearly inconsolable, and felt like I was hyperventilating. When I get really upset, I get nauseous, and felt like that several times while I was there.
To be honest, that's what I fear most, and always have throughout this whole journey. While witnessing my Dad's illness take over his whole body, and witnessing my father's passing were scary enough - what scares me most is the silence. If anyone has any tips, I'd love for you to share them. I don't look forward to the calm after the storm.
Darwin was out at an appointment and came to meet me at the house. He brought me a tea and saw how upset I was when he got to the house. He ushered me outside to compose myself, and we sat on the front steps like my father did so many times. He loved being outside, taking care of his near golf course perfect lawn. He always double-cut his lawn, once in one direction, then a 2nd time in a 90-degree angle so that he could have the perfect diamond pattern in his immaculate lawn. He truly was the envy of the neighbourhood. Some habits die hard - I do the same thing.
We walked around the yard and I remembered how my Dad loved to hang his hammock between the two trees in the backyard, swinging for hours and reading his Reader's Digest magazines, which later turned to National Geographic.
There were many hanging basket brackets left attached to the front of the house, one of which I made when I was in grade 10. My parents left it there all these years. I wanted to take it with me but Darwin said I should leave it. He said that my Dad's mark is all over the house and property, and my bracket added to that.
We sat around until 1:30pm when we got a call from the movers to say that they were stopping for coffee and would be at the house in 30-45 minutes. Well an hour later they still weren't there. I was NOT impressed. I called their dispatch office and they said they were about 10 minutes away. I called and left a message with the office manager and will look to get a discount on the move. A 2-hour window is understandable. Calling me and saying that you're 30-45 minutes away, showing up an hour later, and being 40 minutes past the originally agreed upon time is unacceptable.
It's so strange to see 37 years of hard work reduced to 30 boxes and a bedroom suite. The move itself didn't take that long. We met the movers at the storage unit, signed the papers and watched them unload everything.
We got home and ordered two pizzas - cheese only, and a shahi paneer pizza from our new favourite indian pizza joint. The pizza had paneer (a soft indian cheese - really easy to make!), cashews, raisins, and the same sauce used in butter chicken. Darwin really loved it. I'm more of a plain pizza kinda gal.
I made plans to go with my sister to another indian store to see if they have any ready-to-wear indian suits for the memorial service for her to wear. I was just about ready to call her when the phone rang. The number on call display showed my best friend/sister down in Missouri. I haven't talked to her since my Dad died. She and I have known each other since we were 5 (that's a loooong time!) and we grew up together. She was often at my house, and I was often at hers, and as a result, we saw each others parents as our own. I know my Dad very much regarded her as a daughter.
I wasn't sure I was ready to speak with her just yet, but she took the time to call, so the least I could do is answer the phone. We chatted for a bit - I told her about the move today, and we shared some memories about my Dad. She lost her Dad many years ago, suddenly, and has been a great source of advice and compassion during the entire process. She said she had something to tell me but she didn't want me to get mad. I was so concerned - I didn't know what I could possibly be mad at her for?? She told me that almost the moment she found out about my Dad's passing, she booked a ticket back home.
I am humbled by her offer to fly home. It's not quite right to say that I can't believe she's doing it, because that's her style, but I am surprised nonetheless. What a blessing.
But I did say blessings, plural, in the title.
The other blessing?
Two years ago when I thought we were going to lose my Dad, I asked a very good friend of mine if she would be able to sing at my Dad's service. Truthfully, I wasn't sure how we would even be able to do it as a traditional Hindu ceremony is hardly the place to sing a "pop song", but if there was a way to do it, I wanted it done.
Sadly, she moved out of the city last August. So much for having her at my Dad's service.
Well, as fate would have it, she's in town right now (for 3 weeks) to celebrate her niece's christening.
She knew that my Dad had passed away and offered, if she was able, to sing at my Dad's service. She is a yoga instructor, and unfortunately had previously committed to back-to-back-to-back classes during the time of my Dad's service.
I guess it wasn't meant to be. Oh well ....
Wait - I said there was a blessing in all of this. She managed to find replacements for all three of her classes so that she is able to join us on the afternoon/evening of the service to bring to fruition my dream of her singing Dance with my Father at my Dad's service.
My heart is bursting at the seams with all of the kindness that the world has to offer these days.
I am truly, truly blessed to have such a network of caring, supportive friends.
For that, I am truly grateful.