January 19, 2006 -
<the weekend before
>
Death is has weird effects. After sobbing for quite some time, I was worn out. I didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. Truth is, I didn’t have the energy to do much of anything. I started packing up, because the plan was that I was to leave for home this morning, and the funeral would be on Saturday. Mom called this morning, and said that it would probably be on Monday, so I should stay for Friday classes. Anyway, I picked up a shirt and a skirt, hung them on a doorknob, and fell onto the bed. Ramsey made me tea, and set it down next to me. I sat staring at the steam rise for the longest time. I didn’t even have the energy to reach out and pick the cup up. I didn’t even care enough. All I could do is lay and stare.
Thank God for Ramsey. He came over last night and held me all night, and never tried to make me talk about my feelings. I’ll talk when I want – I hate when people try to drag things out of me. I only wanted him there with me. Which is what he did. Today he brought me to lunch downtown, as this restaurant where they put up glass walls and ceiling in the winter, so you can still eat in the courtyard. Since there were a few art galleries on the block, we walked around and looked at paintings and photographs for an hour or so. It was a good quiet afternoon after the night before. Except that we went in an antique shop, and one room had a room with coffins in it. In the coffins, were mannequins. And skeletons. I can’t bear to think of my dear Charlie as a skeleton.
I can’t believe how death just tears you and breaks you down. It consumes you. I know what to expect by this point. I’ve had enough loved ones die that I know generally how it’ll go. But, of course, you can never be fully prepared for death. Every one is a little different. Every one takes a different part of you. But every one quiets you. Every one makes you gentler and makes you a ghost for a bit. Everything has a certain emptiness about it. The days afterward are filled with ripping apart and melancholy.
I wish I could’ve been there at the end. I think it’s always better to be there at the end. Grandma’s death, while harder because I loved her so, was easier to work through because we all spent so much time at the house in the days before, and we were all there when it happened. While I’m in Louisville, I can only hear. While it will be so hard, I’m glad that I’ll be able to make it to this funeral. I need it. I hope Andy’s ready to hold me.
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