If funerals are for the living, I shall not attend

If funerals are for the living, what then when the living, or one of the living, doesn't want to do to the funeral of a dead relative?

My Uncle El died a couple of days ago. My dad had the one sister and no brothers, and my mom was an only, so I have just him and my Aunt Marguerite as aunts and uncles. The funeral is Tuesday. I could surely get off work, but I am not interested.

I semi-swore to myself after my mom's death, at her funeral, that I would never need to see my oldest brother again. I put the issues of deaths of siblings out of mind as being decades in the future, barring accidents or early cancer or similar.

But, I forgot about El and Marguerite, and now El is dead.

And I don't want to go, and not just because he's is surely going to be there.

I also semi-swore to myself that, other than for possible courtesy visits to church when visiting my sister and her minister husband, that I never would set foot in a church again except to attend a concert or other artistic event.

I have no desire to go there, and, at a minimum, to be a hypocrite, and, at a maximum, be proselytized by Marguerite, or her daughter (both former parochial school teachers), or my oldest or second-oldest brothers, with the likelihood from greatest to least being in that order. Years ago, Marguerite sent me an Easter card that, in not so few of words, said "You know it's true," about fundamentalist Easter beliefs. A religious funeral among conservative Lutheran Christians is only likely to bring that all to the surface, not to mention that, pre-deconversion, I had been to her church umpteen times and some oldsters there may still know me.

No desire.

If funerals are for the living, I'm not going.

I then, with this adapted from handwritten journaling, thought about a poem. I had been thinking about writing one this afternoon. Hadn't sat down to do that.

Then, just after finishing up these notes, this extended haiku started to work its way out.

Death is for the dead
And life is for the living.
So don't fence me in.

Better yet, I won't
Fence myself by attending;
We're all better off.

Namaste for all —
A word that might well offend
Some others itself.

I touched dad's cold skin,
Satisfied that dead is dead
And shall remain so.

Schnittke's Requiem
Challenges old conventions;
Death is chaotic.

Emotional wounds
I shall not give, nor receive.
They will still result.

We will drift further.
I accept that is the price
Of preservation.

Death, life, memories, changes and contingencies

Right now, I'm kind of angry at American hypercapitalism, the continuing decline of the American newspaper business, and the backwardness of America with no official national vacation policy and, in general, much less vacation than other civilized countries.

I've long been politically, and professionally, angry about this. But now, it's personal.

I just found out my sister-in-law died early this morning. Brenda had inoperable cancer ... well, inoperable after previous operations, radiation and chemo had all been tried. By this spring, she and Tim knew that, barring a "miracle," it was a matter of time — likely a year.

Before she got too sick, with the help of a crowdfunder, the two of them went to Florida, to the beaches, Disney World and more. I'm glad they had that last time together.

I may have known Brenda, growing up, before Tim did. At any rate, it was probably at about the same time. She was two grades ahead of me, and two grades behind Tim, in high school. Before I moved away from New Mexico with my dad, I had her in my PE class when I was a sophomore, along with her sister. About that same time, near the end of that school year, the two of them started going out. A little over two years later, they got married.

I remember learning the tip of the iceberg already at that time over the pettiness of divorced parents (mine — Brenda's mom was a widow) as to whether the two of them were "suitable" (as in, Brenda might not be), whether one or both were too long, both mom and dad "projecting" some of their thoughts onto the other and more. As I got older and older, I learned more and more, especially about dad's attitudes. And, was less and less surprised, the more and more I learned, sadly.

Josh and Jason were my first nephews. As they grew, they were in some ways alike, others hugely different. Why, I don't know. I know that Tim and Brenda didn't, either.

This April, I took off a whole two-and-a-half days ... first time I'd had more than two weekdays off in 3.5 years. Maybe I should have burned the whole third day, and flown out to New Mexico rather than driving out to the Texas Panhandle.

I thought there would be more "later" time, and I wanted some "me" time as soon as possible.

And, now she's gone.

I've already gotten OK for taking off the second week in August, as I prepare to  move to a new job. If they have an official memorial, I'll be there for that. If not, I'll just be there.

Funerals, and memorials, are for the living. Unfortunately, I didn't see Brenda one last time while she was still in the living.

And, everybody in the family knows I'm some type of non-believer, even if they don't know the full details, anyway

So, if funerals are for the living, my mourning is better done alone, at least to start. And start I have.

I think this has also brought other families, with this being the 10-year anniversary of my dad's death, to mind, too.

Death, secularism, and the depths

Did I wait too long to cry for my friend Kishi? Did I not give myself emotional space to really feel Kishi’s … death, not “passing”? I wonder. I’d like to feel … to express … to cry 10 percent of the tears that Melly has. Will I? Will I ever?

She is the first person besides mom and dad, and an AA guy I knew more in passing than knew, since I got sober. And, she’s the first — no, not secularist — atheist friend I’ve had die since I’ve reaccepted my own secularism.

And, it makes me mad. There is no god to be mad to. Unlike gratitude, anger feels better, I think, when expressed at someone. And, I won’t “see her again.” I see no heaven, no paradise existing for a future spiritual life, certainly not on the “orthodox” Christian model that’s metaphysical, yet not. I was imagining Marie offering me some sort of consolation along that line, without even first pausing to say, “I know you don’t believe that.” And I’m angry about that … I think. 

Though I haven’t given myself “space” there either.

It almost feels like the distressing from moving out of Marble Falls has gone too far. As though it’s sucked emotionality out of me in general.

Missing Kishi … maybe it will be more a dull, aching pain than something about tears, something that gradually sinks in with the lack of a Yahoo Messenger late-night conversation time any more. And, yes, I already miss that.

And, feel guilty about not trying to look for her online sooner after I moved.

Three weeks later, it still hasn't totally sunk in ... but I still am angry, as well as sad, as well as guilty.

You were gentle and sweet beneath your hard-shelled exterior. You were a beautiful person, even if you often didn't feel that way about yourself.

Death, death of relationship hopes mean lots of acting out the past week

My mom died two weeks ago yesterday. Emotions over her seem to have punctured me deeply enough to force a more emotional, conscious awareness that a female friend of mine is, not now nor in the foreseeable future, going to be anything more than “just friends.” I like her enough, and she’s attractive enough, that I really want her, and I’m definitely kind of depressed it isn’t going to happen.

So, between the two, I’ve got a shitload of emotions I’ve been trying to stuff… and online porn surfing has been the method of stuffing.