Dreaded weekend

I have blogged about my irrational fear of dead people before. Necrophobia or the fear of dead people as it is called is the bane of my life. Other than that, I am perfectly normal… he he.
It seems silly that a grown man should feel this way and I know it is completely irrational, but then so is a fear of spiders or small spaces for that matter.
When my Mom called tthis morning to tell me that a sister of my dad had passed away last night after a long illness, all I could think about was the fact that I would have to attend the funeral. Bugger!
Sure I feel sad and my heart goes out to her family and what they must be going through at this time, but if I had it my way, I would rather not attend the funeral… at all.
Unfortunately for me, I am regarded as close family, and it is expected of me to be present. I really have no say in the matter. Come hell or high water I’ll be doing what is expected of me and hating/dreading every minute of it. It is on occasions like these that I wish I could hit the fast-forward/skip-to-next-scene button.
Of course I will also do my damnest to scheme my way out of having to walk up to the coffin to pay my last respects without appearing insolent. Over the years I have come with a few novel ideas on how to avoid walking past the open coffin; all of which I am able to do at the drop of a hat. Yeah, I can be quite the actor when I have to. I doubt my father will happy with me and those who know of my affliction (namely my own family) would probably think me childish. I can only hope that my dad (and I am really only doing it for his sake) will understand and that my presence there would amount to being supportive.
I dread the day when one of my parents passes away. When that happens, I will have to deal with my phobia and get on with what is expected of me. Hopefully when the time comes, I will be grief-stricken to such a degree that it will override the phobia I have.
On Saturday morning, ChittyChittyBangBroek will put on his most heroic face and slip into the role of the good son, in spite of the sweating, irregular heartbeat and general feeling of nausea. .
Half a bottle of vodka or a fistful of valiums may help (I truly am that desperate!), but that will surely raise a few eyebrows and reinforce the negative perceptions and prejudices that already exists.