dying by number
well the funeral was today and my eyes burn from all of the crying. i really wish i could’ve gone to the visitation last night because i think i would’ve been at least minimally saner today. although you can never tell when i will be close to sane or not so i suppose that i probably would not have been any better.. i just would’ve prefered to get my hysteria out of the way. i did okay when we first got there because i was mostly just angry at him for putting us through it but then i saw the casket with the flag draped over it and realized that this is much different than anything. first i realized that he is dead. like that’s just it. he’s not coming back. and all of my memories of him.. some of which are good and him laughing (i remember his laugh really well) or telling jokes, most of which were racist and made me angry.. are still something that i’m going to miss sometimes. and its hard because he’s just dead. so it inevitably hit me and i just started sobbing.. and mom hugged me and then i started hyperventilating because generally i’m a very very loud crier and theres not a whole lot that i can do about it but sometimes i can stay quiet i just have to hyperventilate and stuff to make up for my not sobbing.. so i wasn’t breathing. and i pretty much reasoned that that was a bad thing. and then i went outside because when i have a panic attack the cool air helps me breathe more successfully. i was pacing around in the rain (cliche enough for you, rainy day and a funeral?) and being glad that it was raining because i really do like the rain and just.. i guess wandering and crying. and once i was outside it was alright for me to sob of course because all the people i wanted to be strong for were still inside. thus, i wailed a bunch and mom was out there and she got cold so she went in when i stopped being so loud. but it was just weird because there are houses around there and i don’t know.. i was just weirded out by my own screaming crying and the fact that people were trying to get ready for work and going about their day and there I was just crying. and that was it. so i got myself together and walked around under the little roof-porch thing that they have for the hearse to park under and kept walking from where the ground was wet to where it was dry so that i’d make little anarchy footprints (my shoes have anarchy symbols all over the bottom) and then dad came out and talked to me and by then i was settled down enough to go back inside.
the funeral itself was very eery and ironic. it wasn’t in a church.. it was just at the funeral home but i felt like the minister was being very condescending.. like he just kept reading off of his sheet and it was completely impersonal and at one point he like paraphrased the obituary. if that. it was more like he just read the obituary for us because none of us could have read it in the newspaper or in the reprint that they made for the In Memory program or whatever you call those things they give you for funerals… augh. it was just sooo… sooo.. soo.. weird. and that’s it. just weird. and i felt like the minister was all “well he was a suicide…. that’s that.” but i suppose he probably wasn’t or even if he was it doesn’t really matter much.. it was just awkward. and then my cousin’s exhusband was there and he sat way in the back and i realized that he was just as much a part of MY family as she is because they were pretty much together for all of my known memory and now they’re not and i missed him and i wished i would’ve gone back to talk to him. but i didn’t talk to him. its just sad. suicide is so fucking selfish.
the burial just got worse. my aunt had decided to allow the military burial because he was in the navy and i think that’s a good thing. i mean he should be honored for his service and all but still the military burial has the 21 gun salute. which is devided up into 3 seven gun salutes. which means 3 gun shots that are 7x the normal loudness of one gunshot.. and when someone shoots themself and thats how they commit suicide, in my opinion the gunshot is the last thing you want to hear. and judging by the tension and crying (esp. my cousin, his daughter) i think most agreed. but yah.. it was just me being incredibly tense waiting for the sound and then it being done and waiting for it to happen again all of three times. suck suck suck. it was probably the worst part. also, this uncle had an affair about a year ago and the dumb bitch showed up at the burial and gave a ring to brandon, his son, that my uncle had given to her. and she hugged my aunt. is that what you call tact? what the fuck! i would’ve fucking decked her if i would’ve processed it sooner. but i don’t think that any of us really processed who she was until she was walking away. dammit.
this all sucks. i kept thinking during the funeral that it could have been her in that casket. and what would i have done then? oh god. that would be awful. i’m so so so so so glad that she talked to me about everything sot hat she didn’t have to be there. i couldn’t handle going to her funeral. she means way to much to me and the world would truly truly be missing out on an amazing girl if she was just gone. i’m going to call her and tell her that later because i think she needs to hear it.