Thy Werewolf, Thy Vampire, They Comfort Me
So, Michael's funeral was this morning, yesterday morning, whatever. I'm pretty drunk right now so this all makes sense...this is an essay in the loosest sense of the word so it's not on literatepirate. Also, as I'm drunk, this is taking a long time as I have to correct all the typos I'm making.
Jesus, what a messed-up day today was. Got up way early to go over my grandmother's and we all drove to this funeral home up near Upper Darby. It was so strange there, so sterile and sureal. The carpet was thick wall-to-wall white, like some kind of quicksand. There were flowers all over the place that folks had sent and framed copies of Michael's various graduation certificates and such...we had to walk by this colage of pictures of him as a little kid. Danny and I started crying.
Phil looked as pale as I've even seen him and Helen was crying. There were a lot of people who showed up and that was great. So great though that they didn't have anywhere for most of us to sit and Uncle John and I were moved to another room to sit where we could barely hear anything. The priest who spoke was terrible...he didn't know Michael and kind of just talked about how we should remember God and all. When I die, and I'm saying this now, when I die please have the religious folk/eulogy giver be a person who actually knows me.
Beans, if you've got Internet wherever you are, write that down, 'cause that's important. I mean, I don't care if they don't have anything good to say, just so long as they knew me.
So, this is really sad. I was thingking that I shouldn't be upset as it's not like he was my brother, only a cousin and all and I had no right to be upset. This comes from hanging around with the folks I did for a while, where I lose the ability to see what I'm actually allowed to be upset over...like 9/11; I actually was angry at myself for being upset as I thought I had no right to be because I didn't know anyone who died. But I don't want to think about this, yanno? I don't want to think about death or suicide.
Phil got up and gave a eulogy and you could tell he was about to fall apart and just outright sob. I cried then too. Then I started thinking about werewolves. It was comforting, just thinking about werewolves and mages and vampires. I mean, that's why we role-play, right, to escape the real world? Maybe I'm a coward but I'd rather think about the current Fenrir/Silver Fang allience in Dark Ages Bremen than the fact that some rent-a-priest isn't doing justice to the memory of someone who's dead.
We all went back to Phyllis and Phil's for a little while. My grandmother and Aunt Vicky had left early to set up food and the what. That's when my Aunt Phyllis told us how it happened, that Michael called the police and told them that he was going to shoot himself and asked them to please come over and take care of things, as he didn't want his body to sit there for days. By the time they got there, he was dead. The police found Kate's (Michael's mother, Phil's ex-wife) number and called her, and she called Phil right away.
Kathy, their neighbor and really good friend was just coming in when Phil got the news, so she called Phyllis, who was at book club and she went and got Helen and Luke from the mall, where they were.
It dawned on me that I've never known someone closely who committed suicide. There was those two cm's from Magellan who eventually killed themselves, but I didn't know them very well and that happened years after I'd left. We, around here, take kind of a cavalier attitude to suicide, like The Perfect Circle song, 'The Outsider'. Michael wasn't like that, wasn't like that a day in his life...so this is why this is so strange for my family. He made a choice and he carried out that choice...but god, the pain that was left behind.
I realize that I'm just rambling now...I'm pretty drunk so I'd better go to bed. Wish I wasn't by myself tonight in my appartment, but that's not such a crisis, just a wish. Yeah, so, that's what I have to say.
Jesus, what a messed-up day today was. Got up way early to go over my grandmother's and we all drove to this funeral home up near Upper Darby. It was so strange there, so sterile and sureal. The carpet was thick wall-to-wall white, like some kind of quicksand. There were flowers all over the place that folks had sent and framed copies of Michael's various graduation certificates and such...we had to walk by this colage of pictures of him as a little kid. Danny and I started crying.
Phil looked as pale as I've even seen him and Helen was crying. There were a lot of people who showed up and that was great. So great though that they didn't have anywhere for most of us to sit and Uncle John and I were moved to another room to sit where we could barely hear anything. The priest who spoke was terrible...he didn't know Michael and kind of just talked about how we should remember God and all. When I die, and I'm saying this now, when I die please have the religious folk/eulogy giver be a person who actually knows me.
Beans, if you've got Internet wherever you are, write that down, 'cause that's important. I mean, I don't care if they don't have anything good to say, just so long as they knew me.
So, this is really sad. I was thingking that I shouldn't be upset as it's not like he was my brother, only a cousin and all and I had no right to be upset. This comes from hanging around with the folks I did for a while, where I lose the ability to see what I'm actually allowed to be upset over...like 9/11; I actually was angry at myself for being upset as I thought I had no right to be because I didn't know anyone who died. But I don't want to think about this, yanno? I don't want to think about death or suicide.
Phil got up and gave a eulogy and you could tell he was about to fall apart and just outright sob. I cried then too. Then I started thinking about werewolves. It was comforting, just thinking about werewolves and mages and vampires. I mean, that's why we role-play, right, to escape the real world? Maybe I'm a coward but I'd rather think about the current Fenrir/Silver Fang allience in Dark Ages Bremen than the fact that some rent-a-priest isn't doing justice to the memory of someone who's dead.
We all went back to Phyllis and Phil's for a little while. My grandmother and Aunt Vicky had left early to set up food and the what. That's when my Aunt Phyllis told us how it happened, that Michael called the police and told them that he was going to shoot himself and asked them to please come over and take care of things, as he didn't want his body to sit there for days. By the time they got there, he was dead. The police found Kate's (Michael's mother, Phil's ex-wife) number and called her, and she called Phil right away.
Kathy, their neighbor and really good friend was just coming in when Phil got the news, so she called Phyllis, who was at book club and she went and got Helen and Luke from the mall, where they were.
It dawned on me that I've never known someone closely who committed suicide. There was those two cm's from Magellan who eventually killed themselves, but I didn't know them very well and that happened years after I'd left. We, around here, take kind of a cavalier attitude to suicide, like The Perfect Circle song, 'The Outsider'. Michael wasn't like that, wasn't like that a day in his life...so this is why this is so strange for my family. He made a choice and he carried out that choice...but god, the pain that was left behind.
I realize that I'm just rambling now...I'm pretty drunk so I'd better go to bed. Wish I wasn't by myself tonight in my appartment, but that's not such a crisis, just a wish. Yeah, so, that's what I have to say.