aftermath…sort of

by A.

I was going to write a detailed post about my feelings post-funeral.

But as I drifted upstairs to get a sandwich, my grandma was up (at 1 a.m.) and we talked about the family for two hours (well, truth be told, she did 98% of the talking, but when you are in your eighties that’s well within your rights).

Basically, to put it in a concise way, I feel numb and that nothing is quite right—like when the character in the sci-fi story realizes that they are in a slightly different world because the time line has been altered. They don’t know what’s different, they just know that it’s not right.

I have to go to sleep now to have any hope of making it to class on time, but I guess I’m fine. I spent some time with Matt, which made me feel better, but I still feel like there is this veil over the universe. I keep trying to get enough sleep to make it go away, but it’s still there, filtering everything that happens through the lens of he’s dead. Dead dead dead dead dead.

I remember a point during the last viewing where I was remembering all the cruel, selfish, insensitive things he did to the family and couldn’t stop crying anyway. That was another dimension to the tragedy: when someone is alive you can always hope they will change their ways and be a better person. When they are laid out, all doubt is gone. They are just as you remember them.

I never write poetry, but in lieu of writing this all out in prose I thought I would just focus on the most salient images.

The last day
Shoveling, shoveling, shoveling
Then crunching through the white to the parlor
His blanched face made ruddy with rouge

A cell phone rings in the silence
Before the lid is closed

The click-click, click-click of hazard lights
Following the hearse
We carry him into the church
Same sermon as my grandpa
Down to the very last word

My aunt is
Paralyzed by sobs
Falling over her husband in the pew
To kiss the casket

Half-hearted Twitter posts
About “Madonna” cemetery
Don’t make it any easier

When we all throw on our roses
And set off driving home