Thy Werewolf, Thy Vampire, They Comfort Me

[zephrin]

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.

Comments

[suspiciouskay]

Honey, you had every right to be upset at the funeral... no reason to be angry with yourself. *hugs you so tight*

Oh man, rent-a-priest... ugh. When my father died, my mother actually went out of her way to get in touch with the rabbi who performed my bat mitzvah. We hadn't been in touch with him for a long time, but he knew my father... and even knowing my father, he still asked Mom some questions about how she and my father met, how he spent his last years, etc. It made such a difference, and it meant so much to us.

I love you, Space Cowboy. Please call if you want to talk about anything.

[zephrin]

I think, at my funeral (in 2094, of course) I'll have you tell the samurai tale of Space Cowboy via interpretive dance. *g*

[suspiciouskay]

Everything is so much better in interpretive dance. *G*

[filamena]

I don't need to write it down. I won't let anyone but someone who knows how to howl your praises at your funeral... (I mean, if you have one. Never dying might put a cramp on that, huh

[zephrin]

*hugs*