The Art of Grieving
If an outside observer were to take a look at my life and everything that's happened, he/she would probably assume that I am accustomed to loss. They might believe that it's become something of old-hat by now, that I have the routine down pat.
The truth is, I'm at a deadstop each and every time. I don't have the slightest clue how to grieve. When is it okay to cry? What about all the unresolved arguments, is it still okay to be pissed off? Do I have to speak only fondly, respectfully for the deceased now, and if that's the case, what if they were an ass and I have nothing nice to say? How long do I get to be sad?
It's true, I can lay out my black dress with the best of them, but what is so special about that when you do it everyday? Do I need to have a designated...I don't know, funeral corset? Top hat? Gloves?
I'm sure that this time, I'll still get it wrong--I'll offend someone somehow, or I'll chicken out of a funeral, or maybe I'll just not appear sad enough at the right times. It's likely that I'll be accused of being a cold, solitary bitch (again), but I promise I'm trying. Talk to me again in a few weeks, after I've had a chance to remember the way he smiled, or his lopsided shuffle.
One thing's for certain, with the way my friends keep dropping like flies, I'll get another shot at it.
Next time, I'll get it right. Next time.
For now, I'll just light a candle for your pretty soul, and maybe go outside and enjoy the sun. I think I'll pick out a parasol for your funeral.
The truth is, I'm at a deadstop each and every time. I don't have the slightest clue how to grieve. When is it okay to cry? What about all the unresolved arguments, is it still okay to be pissed off? Do I have to speak only fondly, respectfully for the deceased now, and if that's the case, what if they were an ass and I have nothing nice to say? How long do I get to be sad?
It's true, I can lay out my black dress with the best of them, but what is so special about that when you do it everyday? Do I need to have a designated...I don't know, funeral corset? Top hat? Gloves?
I'm sure that this time, I'll still get it wrong--I'll offend someone somehow, or I'll chicken out of a funeral, or maybe I'll just not appear sad enough at the right times. It's likely that I'll be accused of being a cold, solitary bitch (again), but I promise I'm trying. Talk to me again in a few weeks, after I've had a chance to remember the way he smiled, or his lopsided shuffle.
One thing's for certain, with the way my friends keep dropping like flies, I'll get another shot at it.
Next time, I'll get it right. Next time.
For now, I'll just light a candle for your pretty soul, and maybe go outside and enjoy the sun. I think I'll pick out a parasol for your funeral.