The Night Before

October 5th, 2006 § 1 comment

Tomorrow I fly to the desert. A professor scolded me and said, “you are going home right in the middle of the semester?” I said not to worry, I was not going for fun. She did not ask for details and I did not provide any.

In my whole life I have never been to a funeral, and this one is called a “celebration”. I feel like it is going to be a party for Jon in which Jon will never arrive. Sounds unreal, I can’t imagine going into that house and him not being there. I can’t quite fathom the reality of it. All those summers we spent there. . . I am angry beyond belief.

I am pretty sure that is one of the “stages.” I am angry at all the people who knew him longer, who saw him more, who did not have an unexplainable connection discussed by everyone but us. I am angered by all the lesser people who are left alive. This will pass

§ One Response to The Night Before

  • occassia says:

    Lissy, my deepest condolences.

    I never met Jon, only knew of him through you, and your mother and brother. But he sounds the sort of person whose meteoric passage through this life cannot go unnoticed or unremembered.

    I’ve lost two good friends to AIDS—they were in their forties—and my mother to cancer before she was sixty. Early but expected deaths, all of them; there was plenty of time to prepare, and yet the feelings I remember were those of outrage and disbelief. I was episodically furious at no one in particular, perhaps the universe in general: whoever was responsible for the ghastly error.

    It’s abstractly nice that someone has researched and identified the stages of grief, but not all that useful to the grieving. Not much is. In time one encompasses it, as the oyster embraces the grain of sand.

    Love, your aunty

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