I still feel hunger, still am capable of finishing a meal. If the food is decent, every mouthful is a burning reminder that he will no longer have the chance to taste it. That for all my extravagant eating habits, every meal that I've never bought him will remain just that.

I can also sleep. Sleep is good. In sleep, I remember nothing.

There was an instant when I was so tired at the wake that I thought, I can't wait for this to be over so things can go back to normal. And then I realised it was either having my father as a corpse in a coffin nearby or not even that.

Normal. I hate everyone whose lives are going on as per normal.