Friday, February 1, 2013

The Next Day

So, my brother and I went to the funeral home today.  That was really easy to do.  Apparently, they handle pretty much everything, though they are dramatically not prepared to be dealing with anyone who has half a brain.  I guess I'm writing the obituary, and making the flyer.
My brother and I stopped by the brewery in town afterward and got a couple of beers.  Then we got another one for free.  Then it turned out that we only paid for our food and not our drinks.  I'm not sure how that happened, really.  Maybe someone overheard us talking.

I passed out when we got home.  A few Belgian-style beers and a night with not much sleep did me in. I guess my brother did a good job running around and doing paperwork stuff today.  I'll do my part now and write, scan photos, and assemble something to pick up at the funeral.

Last night my brother invited his stoner buddies over.  I really hated that.  I kind of just want to be alone for a while, that didn't include him then, but after having to listen to stoner talk about how to pick up women for an hour just two hours after my mother died, it kind of does now.  In case you were wondering it goes something like this, "You gotta fuckin' tell her 'Hey, girl.' No wait, you gotta find something, flowers or some shit.  Then you gotta tell her 'Hey girl, you're beautiful.  You're even more beautiful than these flowers.'"  There was some other jazz about a butterfly and whatnot, but it made no sense.

Ugh, I have a headache.

1 comment:

  1. I recently started reading your blog and was about to comment on a previous post about how similar our brothers seem, but took a look at this post and decided maybe it wasn’t the best timing. I know I’m a complete stranger and, while I’ve been in some very similar situations and can absolutely empathize, I’m not going to try and search for some cliché that one is supposed to say in occasions such as these. The reality is that your situation sucks, and there isn’t much anyone can say or do to change that. I know this probably isn’t one of the “polite niceties” Emily Post would advise, and I hope I don’t come across as insensitive. I just found that “it sucks” seemed to be the one thing that actually did make me feel better, both when my late husband was terminally ill three years ago, and then again when my dad died a few months ago.

    It took me a long time not to feel a little guilty over my annoyance of comments of condolence that I found to be idiotic and/or straight out of the cheesiest Hallmark greeting card. I had a hard time not smacking anyone who said, “I’m sorry!”; however, I actually got some amusement out of the look on their faces when I smiled politely and replied, “So am I” (although I would add “…but thank you.” for sweet old ladies). That’s probably the phrase that irritated me the most because I wondered every single time I heard that, “Why? You didn’t cause his [leukemia/car accident].” I knew rationally that people really don’t know what to say, and reminding myself of that did help my sanity.

    The only advice I can give you is to be a little selfish right now. If you haven’t already figured this out, don’t feel rude if you give into the urge to lock yourself in the bathroom for an hour or take a nap when there’s a houseful of guests.

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