Ode to the Funeral

You would think that the funeral would be the most sad, most difficult part. In my humble opinion, you would be wrong. I'm not saying that the funeral isn't its own fucked up brand of depressing, but the fact of the matter is, it just isn't the hard part. Sure, if you have the honor of preparing said funeral, it can be pretty damn traumatizing to sit and calmly talk about the “arrangements” or discuss in detail what will be happening to the lifeless body that was once a somebody to you. Of course, there will be moments where you will sit with either a numb disbelief, or a burning rage, staring at a contract that is meant to burn or bury or basically vanish a person who but mere days before you could reach out and touch. But really, the funeral is the best you will have it for a long time to come. The time period immediately following the death of someone close to you will feel like some of the worst moments of your life. But in reality, you should enjoy them while they last because they are the easy times. It is the time where you are allowed, no you are expected to let all that shit out. Cry when you please, and do it as often as you want, by all means, you are in pain. Don't feel like eating? Fuck it! You don't have to, you are mourning. Want to be a complete asshole to those around you, lay around doing nothing in bed all day, or simply not speak to anyone at all? Go right ahead, it is acceptable, normal even; You are grieving after all. But don't get too comfortable, because once the funeral is done, and all the kind words and tears have been shed, there is an unspoken expectation for you to pull your shit together. Don't you know that a funeral is all about that one magic word. Yup, you guessed it: closure. Ahhhh closure. Such a novel concept. The idea that there is an end to this nightmare, a time when the lights come back on and the credits roll. The thought that all of this anguish can be neatly wrapped in a nice little package, and put on a shelf with all of the other finished business of our lives. Sadly, closure is rarely a destination that can be reached. It seems to be more of an elusive pot of gold at the end of a vanishing rainbow. In other words, closure is some bullshit. Because guess what really happens after all of the glitter of the funeral fades? Life. Goes. On. And despite your allotted time for unrestricted sadness, it just isn't enough. Truthfully, it will never really be enough. Life goes on, but you are not ready to go on with it. Shit is finally starting to hit you. I mean really hit your ass hard. Reality is sinking in and if you thought you were in pain before, you were sadly mistaken. And now, now that you are being hit full force with what this loss has actually done to your life, the people around you seem to be going on their merry way, living life with no effort, as if its the most natural thing in the world. And you, with your grieving time behind you, and time ticking on before you.. are stuck. Fucking stuck. You are existing with a gaping, open wound that feels like it may never heal. A wound that some carefully ignore, and others not so carefully ignore, pouring in their salt in a dozen different ways. People don't mean to be insensitive. But they are. People don't know what to say. So they don't. People don't intend to infuriate you with their constant admiration of your "strength," but that's exactly what ends up happening. And all the while you want nothing more than to shout, "Listen, fuckers this isn't strength! This is my feeble attempt at joining the rest of the human race in normalcy, and for some odd reason its being mistaken as strength." People tell you that you are strong because they so desperately need you to be strong, because death among its other charming qualities, is uncomfortable. Comforting someone who has had their world flipped on its ass because of death is no fun. No fun at all. Listening to the pain of another is a dead end  for the person listening. So you learn to paste that smile on your face. You know, the one that says, "Don't worry, I'm fine. You are off the hook. Lets talk about something that gets that annoying look of pity off of your face." And this is how you carry on. You do this for long enough that you may even start to feel that you are finally starting to extract yourself from the sticky pain that you have been immobilized by for some time now. And then BAM!! Out of no where like a sock in the face, there will be a smell, or a song, or a word, a place, a picture, a food, or one of the other millions of little things that remind you, and you are right back where you started, just as fucked up as you ever were. 

Enjoy the funeral while you can.