there and back again
Feb. 27th, 2012 04:35 pmThis morning was the funeral mass, and it was so much harder than I expected. I thought the viewing yesterday was going to be the worst of it. But I think being in the same church I was just in six months ago for her sister's wedding made it that much more painful.
About the middle of the day I realized I was on the ragged edge, and I just could not bear to see them put that metallic blue casket in the ground. I just couldn't. So I drove beside her funeral procession for a mile, and then took the highway home.
The night I arrived in town, her father was talking to some cousins around the kitchen table. He showed them his iPhone 4S and how you could ask it to do things like call home and the phone would dial the house number. Then her father asked Siri to bring his daughter back. That moment is going to haunt me forever. There were a lot of moments where I felt far older than I have ever felt, like things were unfolding on a movie screen instead of actually happening.
I suppose it was good to do this, because I was useful in small ways and there was a lot of formal ways to deal with the grief. But I'm so tired and I just feel so helpless in the face of things.
Driving to and from Houston the sky was something amazing. I think the sky in Texas always looked better than anywhere else, because it is so big. The whole way down it was a watercolor of blue and grey and white. It was so immense, unfurling over me.
I'm so sad you're gone.
About the middle of the day I realized I was on the ragged edge, and I just could not bear to see them put that metallic blue casket in the ground. I just couldn't. So I drove beside her funeral procession for a mile, and then took the highway home.
The night I arrived in town, her father was talking to some cousins around the kitchen table. He showed them his iPhone 4S and how you could ask it to do things like call home and the phone would dial the house number. Then her father asked Siri to bring his daughter back. That moment is going to haunt me forever. There were a lot of moments where I felt far older than I have ever felt, like things were unfolding on a movie screen instead of actually happening.
I suppose it was good to do this, because I was useful in small ways and there was a lot of formal ways to deal with the grief. But I'm so tired and I just feel so helpless in the face of things.
Driving to and from Houston the sky was something amazing. I think the sky in Texas always looked better than anywhere else, because it is so big. The whole way down it was a watercolor of blue and grey and white. It was so immense, unfurling over me.
I'm so sad you're gone.