December 08, 2005 - 4:33 p.m.
<How lonely it must be
>
the snow is so bad at home, only three people are at the wake. Dad, Charlie, and Steve Sparks.
my heart aches for the loneliness of that room. And Charlie! No one to distract him, just enough people to always be watching him. Not even a moment alone with his love, even Dad & Steve leave the room. They'll still be thinking of him the whole while. I made up my mind last night not to look in the casket at the wake. It was while remembering a story that Blanche has told us once - for the life of me I can't remember what story it was, now. But I was hearing her laugh, which was always so hearty and grated and full, and thinking of how her whole face changed and shook as she laughed. I never saw her laying down, and I didn't want to. With everyone else I've loved who has died, It's been good for me to see the body. Even though they weren't all "sick and dying" when it happened - like when Marlene suddenly died of a heart attack or a stroke - they were all still fragile and slow. Blanche never was that way. I didn't want any image of her to be still.
So I guess it's just as well that I didn't get to make it to the wake, although I wish my body could be there to fill out the room just a bit more. But I still wish I could make it to the funeral tomorrow. Dad said that there's a chance they'll push it back to Saturday because of the snow. I hope they do. And I hope I can make it.
Yesterday while shopping, I felt guilty. Most everything I bought was for her wake or the funeral - a black sweater and white blouse, because the ones I had weren't nice enough for someone I loved so. A sweater for today, because I wouldn't have time to do laundry before the wake, and all my nice things are dirty. A shell to go under that sweater. A nice coat for me. A nice coat for Ben. (I know that shouldn't have taken all day, but it did. You'd be suprised how hard it is to find a plain black sweater or a plain white shirt. And I'm picky, and my chest doesn't fit in anything...I don't know how big-chested girls do it. Mine isn't really that big.) All things that needed to be nice, and obviously because they'll be used in the future, things that I, and Ben, would still wear and like in the future. But the day before a wake, as frustrated and deperessed as I was with all the shopping, I still paid attention to what I was getting and what fit and what I liked. But I felt bad, putting even a minimal amount of attention on such superficial and personal things, instead of full attention on Blanche. I felt bad for what I felt was indulging myself when something horrific has just happened to someone I love. Obviously if I didn't put any effort or interest into it, it wouldn't have gotten done at all - and that would be terrible, also. But still...I feel guilty
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