Wednesday 23 May 2012

A sunny start to a difficult day...

Today is my friend S's day, the day when we 'say goodbye' to her earthly body, the body that let her down in the end and imprisoned her, so I imagine that wherever she is, she's pretty darn glad to be rid of it. It's a sunny day, and listening to the Beach Boys 'Surfing USA' on the radio, I wish I could believe that she is surfing somewhere, on some amazing blue ocean, her long hair streaming out behind her. (She always longed to grow her original long blonde hair back...)

I've been invited to speak at the funeral - a potted version of what I wrote here last week. Very potted, because I have to be brief and the pastor has a habit of 'hurrying people on' if they start rambling...

This is S's day - and her family's day. And I am going to close my mind to all the negative feelings I have about that church (Church #3 which I've talked about before). This is not the place to explain why I stopped attending earlier in the year, to express how angry I feel about the way they've failed Ben or to feel any emotions towards the people there, except the people that matter i.e. S's husband, son and daughter.

I managed my Dad's funeral relatively OK in February, mainly because my mum insisted the church service was held AFTER the crematorium, not before. So there was none of that hearse arriving at the church and coffin being solemnly carried to the front while we all sit and look at it during the service. And, at the crematorium, it's positioned to one side, so - again - you're not facing it.

That's what makes me fill up. And also when anyone else fills up, I always come out in sympathy.

Ben and H are coming along to the funeral, too. Not to the crematorium afterwards, that's just close family and friends (including me).

I don't know what Ben will feel. To a certain extent what's left of the anorexia is still numbing his emotions, so he finds it hard to feel sadness or happiness - just a neutral mood exacerbated by the anorexia's usual gloomy mood.

He is acutely aware of this and says that, when everyone else is sitting around feeling sad about something e.g. a great tragedy on the news, he feels nothing at all.

But I'm sure I will fill up. And, if I do, I will hate it if someone give me a hug or anything, because that's what I'm like. I like to keep my grief and tears private, and deal with it myself. I don't want a hug and, preferably, I don't want anyone to notice.

As long as I hold it together during my brief talk about her, though...

Second time I've been to that crematorium in 3 months...

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