no more goodbyes

Christine invited me to church with her, just about every week for the duration of our friendship. I used to joke with her, that if she loved her church so much, surely she wouldn't want to see it go up in flames like that? It didn't burst into flames that day, when I finally came to her church. She would have enjoyed the irony of the fact that in the end, she got me to go to her church.

It was a lovely ceremony. When I arrived I saw the 'guys' from my old office. The small sea of suits and the frames of the men I worked with for many years. The undeniable feeling of comfort overwhelmed me, if only for a moment. I walked in a few moments behind them and engaged in the gang bang of hugs- each one of them I squeezed tightly. Even the ones who I knew were not really 'huggers'. It's a funeral, standard rules don't apply.

I hung back a little bit waiting for Michael, who took on the job of dropping the kids off and when he didn't arrive minutes before the ceremony started, I went in and sat down next to an old friend who also came to pay his respects. I think that sitting mostly alone helped me keep it together. Had I been sitting with Michael, or even my girlfriends- the tears would have flown freely. Even sitting somewhat alone, I cried more tears than I thought I had left inside me. For the loss of my friend, and for her family.

Going over all the details will just rip me open again, but there were a lot of moments and things said about her that made me so proud to know her and to have been her friend. It makes me question, again, why she was ever friends with me. She had pretty high moral values and lived with a sense of family, faith, virtue and civic duty. What ever she saw to be friends with a self-indulgent slut like myself... is beyond me. However we shared a friendship that nobody ever questioned. She was somewhat of a balancing factor for me. Always playing the devil's advocate, even though she was ALWAYS on my side, even if I was wrong.

As I am thinking back on the years of our friendship, I see now- how she always looked out for me. She was always checking on me, making sure that I was ok. Always mothering me, in a way that was so subtle that I didn't even notice it. It's Saturday now, and I think that Thursday was a hard day for me. The funeral was over, and it is just time to get on with life. It goes on, for the rest of us. There is guilt that goes along with that. Should I not laugh? Should I not enjoy myself? I feel as if it's not right for me to smile yet, even though my logical brain tells me that this isn't the case.

By the way, I really hate when people say, "Christine wouldn't want you to (insert whatever sad emotion I'm having over her death here)" So please, stop saying it.

Maybe the anger phase isn't quite over, and I don't know if this is bargaining or not. That nagging feeling that she should not have had to die resonates with me. That feeling that it is SO fucking unfair. Nobody deserves to die, but I think that some people truly deserve to LIVE. There was so much talk of how Christians don't fear death and they should be joyful.... all that. I don't know. Maybe if I was religious, all of this would be easier to deal with.

Without that, I guess I'm somewhat lost in a sea of questions about morality and mortality. I don't have any joy about her death. Call me crazy.

I am grateful that she is not in pain anymore. She suffered in her last days. While I don't know that I buy the idea that she is in a "better place now" - she's not in this place where she was in pain. This place, where her brain was being consumed by cancer, which is a disease that in itself, makes me question the very existence of God.

Her mom told me, "You know Julie- nobody gets out of this world alive."

I think that is the only answer I'm going to get.