Instead

I didn’t go.  For multiple reasons.  I struggled with it all day, honestly.  Each rain drop that pelted against the window felt like another reason I needed to go.

But then I looked at Rocco practically sleep-walking through his one day off from work, trying to wrap-up a plumbing project so we could catch the train to Manhattan.  And Paul decided to pummel my cervix with his decidedly pointy elbows in a friendly reminder that my ankles probably shouldn’t be bigger than my head.  And I decided, chicken or not, to stay home, to let this loss go, to not feel guilty for still being here, but feel grateful instead.

I swear, for the first time in three solid days, the sky stopped leaking long enough for the sun to emerge for the briefest of moments.

Then the Nina Simone mix on Pandora served up this song.

And then I looked at my email and found a wealth of supportive comments there waiting.  If I could buy each and every one of you a margarita, I totally would.  Thank you.

Everything just might be OK, after all.


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Comments

  1. I accept mental margaritas, dude. As I am slightly mental. 🙂

    I think you did the right thing. Going would have been traumatic for you and you’re heavily with child and all. There’s no shame in it. You don’t have to be there to be devastated or to remember him. Going to a wake means nothing in the grand scheme of things, it’s the remembering the person that counts. And to put yourself through hell just because you think that might be the right thing to do? Well that’s effed up. You can grieve from anywhere. I’m glad you stayed home. Relax. Feel glad you’re alive and healthy and that’s all anyone really can do.

  2. If you listen hard enough, your heart will tell you the right thing to do.

    The last thing you need is to stress. Relax and take care of yourself (and Paul, naturally).

  3. We grieve in our own way – people can go to a memorial service and feel less than people who stay home and honor the person who’s passed.

    He knows you cared. And care.
    It’s okay.

    Promise. 🙂

  4. You shared the memories and care for him in your words beautifully with a bunch of people who would otherwise have not known him. I think you have given your own personal memorial of him. Be well my friend. We are all grateful that you are here with us, why shouldn’t you? xxoo

  5. Dude, I am grateful for you and all your crazy, daisy words and all your happy little tunes and your harboring of Paul, the parasite.
    Being grateful for your life doesn’t take away from the sadness of the loss of another.
    Still, so sorry…

  6. Hugs for you again. Wakes are for the living, not the dead. The dead aren’t there to see who shows up. Remembering him and taking care of yourself at the same time is the best thing you can do. I’m sure he’d agree.

    Love you.
    ♥Spot

  7. You remembered and shared him with people who would have never known his story. Honoring him this way is much more important than standing in a room full of people who already had the pleasure.

    Get some rest, tomorrow’s another brand new, cervix pummelling day.

  8. Speaking as someone who’s been to five million Italian and Irish “wakes” where my crazy family members dress all in black, scream like velociraptor/howler monkey hybrids and have to be escorted out because they are drunk I know you did the right thing.
    You remembered how spectacularly someone lived their life which is the best send off of all.
    xoxo
    p.s. If I die I will totally haunt your ass if you miss my wake. Sorry , bad humor..just kidding…

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