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| RIP dad |
Days like these that have something like 1000 pounds of emotional tnt but no, like, clear culmination. I dunno. I mean, I don't want every day to end in a fight or a fuck but. This stuff - life BREAKING - it's a bitch and where are the pressure releases? (Seriously.)
I finally just left the funeral party, which is literally raging upstairs now - I think the women are fighting and the men cleaning up in bemused spectatorship.
It was a great service, great party. Amazing to see my cousins. In a way. Also devastating. My cousin Perry's son killed himself. He is the one who gave me Hammy. I spent the most time with him at the service, him and his wife, they're broken totally but broken together but still. "We have a grandson and a new baby, Shirley (my mom's mom's name, crossing family lines). But are we really allowed to be happy ever again?" They both shake their heads, No.
Then switch gears into the past, everybody go back and remember my dad's life for the service. By far, the best part of my dad's life was when he was with my mother. They danced and laughed and fucked and loved the shit out of life, from which my sister and I sprang, and which we all remember. We ALL remember my parents being all over each other, music playing, food food food, everyone wanted to be with them as much as possible. my cousin Perry had a terrible stutter, but not around my mother. My parents loved life like hell through each other, and that spilled over onto everyone. Then they lost it. And nobody, not one family, not one cousin on either side, didn't suffer for the loss of the authentic Happy To Be that they were together. Like a bubble machine. And the person who suffered the most was my dad, the one who died without her. That story, their pictures, her visceral adoration, his mustaches, their voracious joy in each other, their chemistry, all of it - it's just - no wonder I am so. I don't know what to call it. Dying of thirst while drowning.
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