Everyone wore black. Black hose. Black dress. Black suit. Black heart. I wore pink, the offspring wore a sun dress. It wasn't black. We laughed and sang the whole ride there. It was definitely right but almost felt wrong.
I hate funeral homes. The smell. The casket. The tears. I cried, but for different reasons. I wasn't close to the woman, and didn't know her well. I was merely a support system. But my heart felt different. My heart cracked a little, and it hurt to swallow.
Before we left, the sun shined like a light saber and the air, crisp. I had to explain to a puppy-dog-eyed three-year-old what Heaven is. What death is. Why the woman was in a box, in plain sight, but in Heaven too.
And...
Much like everything else, it made me think of my father and the service he never had. The respect he never had. Or the flowers I have yet to place at the foot of the silver marker. The one that's all wrong, covering the ashes I never knew about.
And...
It made me think of writing. Sometimes it's black. Sometimes it makes me cry, but for different reasons. Sometimes my heart cracks and it hurts to swallow because the story is wrong or right or whatever. Sometimes I have to explain why I let it die or reason why it's better off.
This may not make sense to you, but it's
a whole lot clearer
on my end.
It's time to become a butterfly...
I hope you enjoyed the hubs's guest post yesterday about our pretend pool boy. If you missed it, shameshame.
Tell me, in light of this entire post, and in response to yesterday's, who's your literary crush?
Candyland. Out.
P.S. Leave a comment and you're entered to win a stained glass butterfly bookmark.
Winner announced tomorrow.
17 comments:
I love you. There are no other words. I think you are one of the kindest, smartest, most creative individuals I have met. Your post always stop and make me think. Thank you for that.
~JD
Death can be so painful for those left behind and so ... awkward for those on the fringes of association to the deceased.
Life is suffering. I think that's what you mean when you compare it to writing, which is such a great point.
I don't really have a literary crush, but I did admire Lyra Belaqua. Crushing on her would have been gross since she was like 12 or something.
Candyland this post was very special... and ended nicely talking about pool boys and the hubs (the post I missed yesterday *blushes*)
My literary crush would be John Steinbeck. I love the way that man puts sentences together...however, I picture him as a young Henry Fonda, and that helps a lot too. ;-P
That resting place where your dad is, well thats more for you than for him. You should imagine him as a beautiful butterfly and everytime you see one it will be like a sign from him letting you know everything is okay. He is okay. And believe it or not, so are you.
Hmmm. Do you mean author crush or character in a book crush?
Character in a book would be Jake Brigance from a Time to Kill.
Author....Adam Rex's writing makes me laugh and he writes poetry and mg well (not to mention he's an excellent illustrator too). I'm looking forward to his YA, Fat Vampire this summer!
Beautiful post, and I can relate totally. You words are as clear as the sun that was shining yesterday.
My literary crush(ES) are Marilynne Robinson and Margaret Atwood. :o)
I agree that writing can portray all of the above. That's why its so magical- don't ever stop! thanks for sharing this. And as for my literary crush...hmn. I admit I kind of had a thing for Calvin from the sweep Series.
I agree that life is not the easiest to explain, nor is it's counterpart--writing. Thank you for coloring it so vividly and fluently.
I lost my mom when I was 17. I lost a husband and more recently, my dad. So I get the whole death thing. I like that you dressed in colors and sang. And it was right. I know the sadness that comes but experiencing is so much better than denial. You are a great writer.
What a great post. Death is a part of life... as contradictory as that sounds, and I love that you're embracing it and making it seem natural, not all stilted and awkward as it usually comes across.
I'm glad you're back. Your hubby is entertaining and all but he's no Candyland :)
Everything is always right and wrong in the world. Even when someone is sad, another is happy.
When we were driving to the graveyard after my grandfather's funeral, I glanced out the window and saw two older teenagers walking down the block, laughing together. Don't they know that someone died today?
The answer: No.
Gorgeous post. I'm so sorry for your loss. I hate funerals and death and the possibility of death that can shadow your entire life if you let it.
Hug your family and enjoy your long weekend. That always seems to help a little. XOXO
The night before my mom's funeral, my brothers, sisters and I (along with a few others) sat around playing Apples to Apples. We laughed ourselves sick. And it is exactly what Mom would have wanted. I totally get where you're coming from.
Literary crush? I'm sure there have been a lot, but you know the old one gets replaced by the new one (I'm fickle like that)...so I'll go old school and say Mr. Knightley from Emma. mmmmmmmm.
Death sucks. I should probably leave it at that, but I won't because I've been drinking.
Seriously, I don't think my brain is capable of dealing with the permanence of it. Obviously it hurts more when it's a loved one -- but everyone is someone's loved one.
I was so inappropriate at the last funeral I went to. I was whispering jokes about vampires and misinterpreting Bible verses left and right. But only my husband could hear me. And I did wear black. :)
I'm so sorry for your loss. Funerals are a difficult thing.
The whole writing thing totally makes since to me.
Beautiful post Candy. =)
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