It's a lovely day for a funeral
We'll meet again,
Don't know where,
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day --Vera Lynn, "We'll Meet Again (Some Sunny Day)"
Cold, rainy, windy...perfect funeral weather, all sarcasm aside. Somehow, it wouldn't feel right if it were sunny and gorgeous outside. It wouldn't mesh with the sorrow that hung in the air like a tangible fog. This culture is so hung up on death being like, the saddest thing ever, where in other countries, they're singing and dancing, getting drunk and celebrating the person's life, rather than boo-hooing over their corpse. so somber, so serious.
So. Funeral. At least I'm not lacking in black clothing, even though that's rather passe. I don't give a shit; I'm goth at heart, and so I have an assortment of lovely funereal attire to choose from, down to little lace glovelettes...I figured the small, round, black straw hat with attached mourning veil would be a tad over-the-top. I was one of the only people in attendance clad entirely in black. But I wouldn't feel right wearing any other colour...though I am wearing purple tights and lavender-and-black striped stockings under my skirts, but shhh.
I do believe in an afterlife. Not clear on the details, but who is? I guess some devout religious types think they know exactly what's gonna happen once we leave this world, but there are so many different theories to really discern which is correct, if any...so I'm just content in the knowledge, my own personal knowledge that something happens to our souls after we die. I was raised liberal Christian, and I believe in God, but I'm not sure about the whole "Jesus thing". But I don't believe that we just cease to exist, as though we never were. I'm not sure about Heaven, and I'm even less sure about Hell...but I'm pretty certain something happens. Something nice. I don't always have much faith, and I'm not really sure about much as far as God and an afterlife is concerned...but I'll find out, eventually. I wonder where Bob is, right now, if he can feel my pain, if he's aware of how many lives the loss of his own has touched. I wonder if he has any idea. There a lot of things I'd like to think, and it's harmless enough...I never try to push my beliefs on others, I hate that shit. But I hope we'll meet again, some sunny day. Like Chris just said to me on the phone, "I just can't believe that there's no more Bob..." I know. I know.
I attended the third funeral of my life, today. The first was when I was too young to remember, my great aunt's, the second was much more profound; Alex Flex, a good friend of my from Park highschool who shot himself (accidentally, it's presumed, but no one really knows, to this day) at the age of 16...that one had a huge impact on me, really fucked me up in the head. And now, today, Bob's funeral. He was closer to Chris than to me, he was 44 and we didn't always like him very much, as he had a tendency to be obnoxious, but he was still our friend. I was supposed to go with our friend Adam, we set it up last night, but he wouldn't answer his phone this morning...so I went alone. Didn't know anyone there, couldn't find the place at first, so I missed all but the last 5 minutes or so of the service...but I got to pay my last respects. It's crazy, seeing someone dead who you knew in life. He looked like he was made out of wax, a very accurate replication of a human being, down to the eyelashes, but wrong. Just...not-right looking. Surreal. I didn't touch him. I couldn't. It was too weird. Only when someone I'm extremely close to dies will I be able to breach that fear of death's chill and reach into the casket to grasp a lifeless hand, bend to kiss unresponsive, cool skin. Fucked up, man. Too vivid, as Tom Robbins might say.
It was my first funeral procession. Not a huge deal, but an interesting experience, for sure. He's going to be buried, is probably being put in the ground right now, in Mound Cemetery (I was there taking pictures with Lara the day he died, not knowing at that time he'd be laid to rest there...strange synchronicity), right near the front, off the side of one of the little roads, so it'll be really easy to locate in the future. Chris wanted me to go so I could see where he'd be buried, because the cemetery's so huge, trying to find him would be a huge headache. We intend to pour beer on his grave in tribute, his beloved Steel Reserve 2/11 (euch...the beverage of crackheads, for sure) and drink a toast of the awful stuff in his honour. I'll bring flowers, stuff like that. I did recognize a few people, but I didn't know anyone. His sister, Kim, was there and I was able to identify her, go up to her and introduce myself, as we'd spoken on the phone. She said it was nice to meet me and gave me a big hug, which was nice, as going to a funeral all by your lonesome is awkward, when all around you people are comforting each other and talking. The family was invited to help themselves to the flowers, blue and white carnations on his casket, and I asked her if it'd be okay if I took one. She told me to help myself, and thanked me for coming. I didn't cry. But I almost did. I'm not angry anymore. For the past few days, my head has just not been right. I've been displaying all the classic symptoms of depression: loss of appetite, sleeping all the time, unmotivated, loss of interest in things I usually enjoy, and bursting into random tears, just breaking down and sobbing in the kitchen after just putting a pizza in the oven...of which I only ate a piece and a half. I'm starting to feel better. Funerals give closure. I feel rather alone in this, as the only other person who would've been able to feel my pain right there, along with me, is in prison. But Chris was there with me in spirit, as always.
I suppose I should be lucky that I've only had two close friends die on me in my 23, nearly 24 years of life (my birthday's coming up on the 24th of May...my Golden Birthday, but that's a topic to be discussed in another entry), and that no close family members have left me yet, thank God. I suppose I could turn this around and realize how precious the gift of life is, and that I still possess it...it could be taken from me or those I love at any time. But, as Bob's was a drug-related death, my chances of living a long and healthy life, as well as those closest to me, are much improved. Funerals are weird and uncomfortable, but they do give closure, and the words of the priest were surprisingly comforting. I feel like I can move on. It's so weird, how bummed I've been about this lately, when my first reaction was anger and frustration, not an ounce of sadness. It had to sink in. I let it, I'm dealing with it...but I do wish I had more people to confide in. It's rather disheartening to see that not a single comment was left on the original post I made about Bob's death. I know I'm not as active as I used to be around here, but it would've been nice for someone to at least offer some kind of condolence, no matter how generic. When I read that something shitty has happened in the life of a friend of mine on here, I comment. But I guess I can't rely on people to do what I myself would do, in any given situation. Yeah...I need to learn that. Like about Adam, whose nature is to be unreliable as all hell, but I thought maybe, for something like this...but no. The people I can truly count on are few and far between. It's a hard lesson to learn...but I'm starting to get the gist.
Sorry if I sound bitter, bitchy and self-pitying. Like I said, my head is not right lately, and I've been spending too much time inside that dark and confusing place, even possessing the knowledge that to stare too long into the abyss is to lose oneself. Well, I still haven't really found myself, but I guess that's a life-long process.
Actually, that's a lie. I'm not sorry. This is somewhere I can speak the truth, and get my feelings down on metaphorical paper. If no one reads, fine. Whatever. I needed to document this event in my life, and to vent my various frustrations and express my emotions. That's what this is for. I've been doing it for nearly 8 years. I guess I just thought maybe someone would comment. I'm not gonna lie, I'm disappointed. I feel alone, here. Not a good feeling for a person with my problems, not for anyone, but especially someone with the kind of issues I've gotta deal with every day that the people I live with don't understand, and the people I hang out with...I don't know. Some of them understand too well. It's a cruel world, and a cold one, and I'm feeling confused and alone and a little afraid... There it is. Take it or leave it. Some days, I feel too human...other days...not enough.
Despite the wisdom of defeat, I bore my heart for all to see...
With my face turned to the sun, there am I standing still.--VNV Nation
Don't know where,
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day --Vera Lynn, "We'll Meet Again (Some Sunny Day)"
Cold, rainy, windy...perfect funeral weather, all sarcasm aside. Somehow, it wouldn't feel right if it were sunny and gorgeous outside. It wouldn't mesh with the sorrow that hung in the air like a tangible fog. This culture is so hung up on death being like, the saddest thing ever, where in other countries, they're singing and dancing, getting drunk and celebrating the person's life, rather than boo-hooing over their corpse. so somber, so serious.
So. Funeral. At least I'm not lacking in black clothing, even though that's rather passe. I don't give a shit; I'm goth at heart, and so I have an assortment of lovely funereal attire to choose from, down to little lace glovelettes...I figured the small, round, black straw hat with attached mourning veil would be a tad over-the-top. I was one of the only people in attendance clad entirely in black. But I wouldn't feel right wearing any other colour...though I am wearing purple tights and lavender-and-black striped stockings under my skirts, but shhh.
I do believe in an afterlife. Not clear on the details, but who is? I guess some devout religious types think they know exactly what's gonna happen once we leave this world, but there are so many different theories to really discern which is correct, if any...so I'm just content in the knowledge, my own personal knowledge that something happens to our souls after we die. I was raised liberal Christian, and I believe in God, but I'm not sure about the whole "Jesus thing". But I don't believe that we just cease to exist, as though we never were. I'm not sure about Heaven, and I'm even less sure about Hell...but I'm pretty certain something happens. Something nice. I don't always have much faith, and I'm not really sure about much as far as God and an afterlife is concerned...but I'll find out, eventually. I wonder where Bob is, right now, if he can feel my pain, if he's aware of how many lives the loss of his own has touched. I wonder if he has any idea. There a lot of things I'd like to think, and it's harmless enough...I never try to push my beliefs on others, I hate that shit. But I hope we'll meet again, some sunny day. Like Chris just said to me on the phone, "I just can't believe that there's no more Bob..." I know. I know.
I attended the third funeral of my life, today. The first was when I was too young to remember, my great aunt's, the second was much more profound; Alex Flex, a good friend of my from Park highschool who shot himself (accidentally, it's presumed, but no one really knows, to this day) at the age of 16...that one had a huge impact on me, really fucked me up in the head. And now, today, Bob's funeral. He was closer to Chris than to me, he was 44 and we didn't always like him very much, as he had a tendency to be obnoxious, but he was still our friend. I was supposed to go with our friend Adam, we set it up last night, but he wouldn't answer his phone this morning...so I went alone. Didn't know anyone there, couldn't find the place at first, so I missed all but the last 5 minutes or so of the service...but I got to pay my last respects. It's crazy, seeing someone dead who you knew in life. He looked like he was made out of wax, a very accurate replication of a human being, down to the eyelashes, but wrong. Just...not-right looking. Surreal. I didn't touch him. I couldn't. It was too weird. Only when someone I'm extremely close to dies will I be able to breach that fear of death's chill and reach into the casket to grasp a lifeless hand, bend to kiss unresponsive, cool skin. Fucked up, man. Too vivid, as Tom Robbins might say.
It was my first funeral procession. Not a huge deal, but an interesting experience, for sure. He's going to be buried, is probably being put in the ground right now, in Mound Cemetery (I was there taking pictures with Lara the day he died, not knowing at that time he'd be laid to rest there...strange synchronicity), right near the front, off the side of one of the little roads, so it'll be really easy to locate in the future. Chris wanted me to go so I could see where he'd be buried, because the cemetery's so huge, trying to find him would be a huge headache. We intend to pour beer on his grave in tribute, his beloved Steel Reserve 2/11 (euch...the beverage of crackheads, for sure) and drink a toast of the awful stuff in his honour. I'll bring flowers, stuff like that. I did recognize a few people, but I didn't know anyone. His sister, Kim, was there and I was able to identify her, go up to her and introduce myself, as we'd spoken on the phone. She said it was nice to meet me and gave me a big hug, which was nice, as going to a funeral all by your lonesome is awkward, when all around you people are comforting each other and talking. The family was invited to help themselves to the flowers, blue and white carnations on his casket, and I asked her if it'd be okay if I took one. She told me to help myself, and thanked me for coming. I didn't cry. But I almost did. I'm not angry anymore. For the past few days, my head has just not been right. I've been displaying all the classic symptoms of depression: loss of appetite, sleeping all the time, unmotivated, loss of interest in things I usually enjoy, and bursting into random tears, just breaking down and sobbing in the kitchen after just putting a pizza in the oven...of which I only ate a piece and a half. I'm starting to feel better. Funerals give closure. I feel rather alone in this, as the only other person who would've been able to feel my pain right there, along with me, is in prison. But Chris was there with me in spirit, as always.
I suppose I should be lucky that I've only had two close friends die on me in my 23, nearly 24 years of life (my birthday's coming up on the 24th of May...my Golden Birthday, but that's a topic to be discussed in another entry), and that no close family members have left me yet, thank God. I suppose I could turn this around and realize how precious the gift of life is, and that I still possess it...it could be taken from me or those I love at any time. But, as Bob's was a drug-related death, my chances of living a long and healthy life, as well as those closest to me, are much improved. Funerals are weird and uncomfortable, but they do give closure, and the words of the priest were surprisingly comforting. I feel like I can move on. It's so weird, how bummed I've been about this lately, when my first reaction was anger and frustration, not an ounce of sadness. It had to sink in. I let it, I'm dealing with it...but I do wish I had more people to confide in. It's rather disheartening to see that not a single comment was left on the original post I made about Bob's death. I know I'm not as active as I used to be around here, but it would've been nice for someone to at least offer some kind of condolence, no matter how generic. When I read that something shitty has happened in the life of a friend of mine on here, I comment. But I guess I can't rely on people to do what I myself would do, in any given situation. Yeah...I need to learn that. Like about Adam, whose nature is to be unreliable as all hell, but I thought maybe, for something like this...but no. The people I can truly count on are few and far between. It's a hard lesson to learn...but I'm starting to get the gist.
Sorry if I sound bitter, bitchy and self-pitying. Like I said, my head is not right lately, and I've been spending too much time inside that dark and confusing place, even possessing the knowledge that to stare too long into the abyss is to lose oneself. Well, I still haven't really found myself, but I guess that's a life-long process.
Actually, that's a lie. I'm not sorry. This is somewhere I can speak the truth, and get my feelings down on metaphorical paper. If no one reads, fine. Whatever. I needed to document this event in my life, and to vent my various frustrations and express my emotions. That's what this is for. I've been doing it for nearly 8 years. I guess I just thought maybe someone would comment. I'm not gonna lie, I'm disappointed. I feel alone, here. Not a good feeling for a person with my problems, not for anyone, but especially someone with the kind of issues I've gotta deal with every day that the people I live with don't understand, and the people I hang out with...I don't know. Some of them understand too well. It's a cruel world, and a cold one, and I'm feeling confused and alone and a little afraid... There it is. Take it or leave it. Some days, I feel too human...other days...not enough.
Despite the wisdom of defeat, I bore my heart for all to see...
With my face turned to the sun, there am I standing still.--VNV Nation