I thought at this age
I'd be attending more weddings than funerals but the way it goes is, nobody in their right mind gets married anymore, and death is guaranteed. The mass was packed. I don't think the family expected so many people, I almost didn't go, but I knew I needed to grieve. And I wanted her mother to know that however short and seemingly insignificant our relationship had been, her daughter was there for me, so I showed up for her.
Cleaning someone's house gives me a certain intimacy with the person who lives there, it's not just the small talk while i filled a bucket as she straightened up the kitchen. It's not just the questions she asked me about the details of my custody battle that I completely forgot I had even told her. Or even that time we laughed about the absurdity of her obsession with that show Forensic Files, on the couch, curled up with a blanket over her head.
Christine, I know your favorite shampoo, your perfume. I know you kept and slept with a tattered old shred of a pillowcase that you had as a child. I know how much toothpaste splattered against your bathroom mirror, I know your favorite snacks you kept in the cubbards. I know where you hid your stash of cash, you were so excited when I reminded you of it. I know who punched the holes in your walls. I saw the vomit around the toilet. I know the herion you found in the laundry room wasn't actually your ex-boyfriend's.
The mass was beautiful, though I didn't find comfort in the distraction of the rituals, I understood how they can for many. I know theres probably only one person who will read this but I believe the universe can send and recieve messages, so I'm putting this out there, fulfilling my one and only ritual of greif.
I am so glad that I got to know you, and that I was able to tell your mother this. I'm sure she did all of the right things, and maybe some of the wrong things, I know all she wanted was to fix you, to make it all better. But she should be proud of you, for the person you were, for the things you knew and the way you loved. Proud for all the people that you showed up for.
Those seats didn't fill themselves.
Cleaning someone's house gives me a certain intimacy with the person who lives there, it's not just the small talk while i filled a bucket as she straightened up the kitchen. It's not just the questions she asked me about the details of my custody battle that I completely forgot I had even told her. Or even that time we laughed about the absurdity of her obsession with that show Forensic Files, on the couch, curled up with a blanket over her head.
Christine, I know your favorite shampoo, your perfume. I know you kept and slept with a tattered old shred of a pillowcase that you had as a child. I know how much toothpaste splattered against your bathroom mirror, I know your favorite snacks you kept in the cubbards. I know where you hid your stash of cash, you were so excited when I reminded you of it. I know who punched the holes in your walls. I saw the vomit around the toilet. I know the herion you found in the laundry room wasn't actually your ex-boyfriend's.
The mass was beautiful, though I didn't find comfort in the distraction of the rituals, I understood how they can for many. I know theres probably only one person who will read this but I believe the universe can send and recieve messages, so I'm putting this out there, fulfilling my one and only ritual of greif.
I am so glad that I got to know you, and that I was able to tell your mother this. I'm sure she did all of the right things, and maybe some of the wrong things, I know all she wanted was to fix you, to make it all better. But she should be proud of you, for the person you were, for the things you knew and the way you loved. Proud for all the people that you showed up for.
Those seats didn't fill themselves.