The Big Chill
I want to thank everyone for their words of support and expressions of grief. If I weren't cried out, I'd no doubt being tearing up now just writing this. You guys are so kind.
The funeral is Saturday, and I'm heading out tomorrow evening after work. I'll bunk over with my brother Colin, and then we'll drive to Loveland Saturday morning. Elise's body was cremated, so there's just the service at the church, no viewing or graveside, which I feel guilty for being thankful for. I want to remember the little girl who laughed and grinned and ran and wiggled around like a puppy when she was excited, not that poor hurt baby in the hospital.
I picked out a lily to send to the church on our behalf, both for Lily's (name)sake and because I thought the message behind a plant was better and, you know, more appropriate than that of a flower arrangement. Plants grow and live, and flowers don't. Colin had mentioned planting a tree in Elise's memory or, hell, even naming a star after her or something, but I think that's something that can wait a little. Maybe an anniversary type thing. God knows how they'll get through the next week or month, let alone days like her birthday or--when she died.
They asked that we not wear black, and I feel like a shit because black's 3/4ths of my entire wardrobe, and what's not black isn't fit for a funeral. So it's mostly black with a purple overshirt. I asked Colin point-blank if he had anything, and he's pretty much in the same boat as I am, but that's mostly owing to the colorblindness. My brothers, they aren't goth or depressed or even particularly stylish (at least not intentionally so); they just both figured it was impossible to mismatch anything if it's all fucking black or navy. Clever, but not exactly ideal in this situation. I have to go in to work on Sunday, so I'll be driving back for four hours right after the reception. Then after that it's Monday and Tuesday and back to my regular fucking life, where I have the luxury of only thinking about what's happened off and on during the course of my day and not constantly like Lily and Jacob. Got plastered last Saturday after receiving the phone call Elise was gone. I've got my own problems, yes, but this is indirect in a way, and I feel like a bad sister that I'm grateful I'm not the one in the frying pan right now. I can do support okay, but I don't do well under my own pressure--if that makes sense.
This isn't about me, but this is the place I can talk, right? I'll be okay. I just worry I'm making it worse or missing something crucial. But that's typical, I think. I hate that we're all getting together again because of a funeral. We're supposed to try and talk about the good times, tell stories about Elise that will help us all remember what a special little girl she was, and yet it feels like there's this big pink elephant in the room, and it's name is homicide and murder and the fact that someone made contact with her stomach hard enough to essentially kill her.
Is this the Anger stage? I already denied and bargained.
Thank you all again. Your messages mean a lot to me. They really do.
The funeral is Saturday, and I'm heading out tomorrow evening after work. I'll bunk over with my brother Colin, and then we'll drive to Loveland Saturday morning. Elise's body was cremated, so there's just the service at the church, no viewing or graveside, which I feel guilty for being thankful for. I want to remember the little girl who laughed and grinned and ran and wiggled around like a puppy when she was excited, not that poor hurt baby in the hospital.
I picked out a lily to send to the church on our behalf, both for Lily's (name)sake and because I thought the message behind a plant was better and, you know, more appropriate than that of a flower arrangement. Plants grow and live, and flowers don't. Colin had mentioned planting a tree in Elise's memory or, hell, even naming a star after her or something, but I think that's something that can wait a little. Maybe an anniversary type thing. God knows how they'll get through the next week or month, let alone days like her birthday or--when she died.
They asked that we not wear black, and I feel like a shit because black's 3/4ths of my entire wardrobe, and what's not black isn't fit for a funeral. So it's mostly black with a purple overshirt. I asked Colin point-blank if he had anything, and he's pretty much in the same boat as I am, but that's mostly owing to the colorblindness. My brothers, they aren't goth or depressed or even particularly stylish (at least not intentionally so); they just both figured it was impossible to mismatch anything if it's all fucking black or navy. Clever, but not exactly ideal in this situation. I have to go in to work on Sunday, so I'll be driving back for four hours right after the reception. Then after that it's Monday and Tuesday and back to my regular fucking life, where I have the luxury of only thinking about what's happened off and on during the course of my day and not constantly like Lily and Jacob. Got plastered last Saturday after receiving the phone call Elise was gone. I've got my own problems, yes, but this is indirect in a way, and I feel like a bad sister that I'm grateful I'm not the one in the frying pan right now. I can do support okay, but I don't do well under my own pressure--if that makes sense.
This isn't about me, but this is the place I can talk, right? I'll be okay. I just worry I'm making it worse or missing something crucial. But that's typical, I think. I hate that we're all getting together again because of a funeral. We're supposed to try and talk about the good times, tell stories about Elise that will help us all remember what a special little girl she was, and yet it feels like there's this big pink elephant in the room, and it's name is homicide and murder and the fact that someone made contact with her stomach hard enough to essentially kill her.
Is this the Anger stage? I already denied and bargained.
Thank you all again. Your messages mean a lot to me. They really do.