He stumbled into faith and thought
God, there is all there is
The pictures in his mind arose
And began to breathe
And all the gods and all the worlds
Began colliding on a backdrop of blue



This has been a shitful week as N. would say. Just bad news across the board. A close friend lost a family member unexpectedly. It just rocked her whole family, you can't help but see it. I woke up this morning in a panic, thinking about all the vacations she had gone on with the family member, thinking about the last one they went on, thinking about what's going to happen now, how this will change her living situation, etc. About how hard next week's going to be for her when she has to pretend like life goes back to normal, even though it doesn't. I thought about the world we live in where there seems to be two groups within my peer group - those who are approaching 30 and haven't lost anyone but a very occasional elderly family member or a friend's parent or an acquaintance and those of us . . .well, those of us who should have a punch card with a free slurpee attached to every five or so wakes that one attends. Me, well, when asked for a first memory, one of the first things that comes to mind is my grandmother's death and it's all sort of downhill from there.


Last night, A. and I went to the wake, it was the first viewing. I have this morbid fascination with the brochures the funeral homes have. This particular home had a listing of 19 things that you should do (or not do) to help the grieving. It was actually very helpful advice, A. is part of the punch card catagory and we're always appalled by people who don't know how to conduct themselves around bereaving people, but as I said, it's a different world now, there are people who this isn't automatic for. I mean, I'm surrounded by boxes and shardkin and I can pull funeral clothes like a rabbit out of a fucking hat (he too is part of the punchcard club). I have a set of clothes always hanging neatly ready for a wake. I can make a casserole ready to go in under an hour. It's weird to me that there are people aren't like this, just like I'm sure I seem like a freak on a leash to people who haven't lost too much yet.

But there's always sort of gallows humor around a wake because you can only cry so much. A. and I quickly agreed that #4 (Always be yourself!) was really terrible advice which was quickly seconded by our grieving friend ("That's a terrible idea. None of us are appropriate for wakes as ourselves."). We also assured her that we had now learned that we shouldn't tell her how she feels and that we should treat her normally when she makes her triumphant return to normal society. We also helpfully told her that she now gets a "grief spiral" which neither A. or nor I were lucky enough to get previously, so she should use the fuck out of it. We also thought that in the brochure basically telling you to kiss your funeral director's ass because s/he does the planning of a wedding or bar mitzvah in a mere few days was a bit much since the home we were visiting had five funeral directors, so they had more than enough people to share the burden with.

People are beginning to tease me about how often I wind up at wakes (hence the slurpee comment from a friend) because I've just sort of given up and accepted every couple months (if I'm lucky) that's what I'll be doing. I was like, hey I had like three months off in between wakes! For me that's a good solid break!

I'm exhausted though. It was painting then moving then really super sick then wakes and then Samhain on Saturday. It's really draining.