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October 18, 2009

I’m home again in a state of post-socialization remorse. Are you familiar with this state of mind? It’s when you go somewhere with people like a party (or, in this case, a wake) and you babble incessantly because you’re uncomfortable and you come home and rehash everything you said in excruciating detail and feel like a total moron. Or is that just me?

This is what happens when you spend a little too much time at home. Still, regret, regret, regret.

The wake was terribly sad, in that way it always is when someone dies unexpectedly and far too young. The display of photos of him and his favorite things at one end of the room was moving even for me, who never met him — an odd assortment of the exquisite, the quirky and the mundane, an intensely personal collection. I watched person after person walk up to the collection and burst into tears. Eventually a pile of tissues appeared on the table, and they disappeared fast. That’s all I’ll say about that, because this isn’t my story to tell. But I’ll be thinking about some things I saw there for a while, I think. And I’ll definitely be thinking about the family who needs some good energy about now.

There’s more to say, but I’m not sure I can say it now. I’ll try again tomorrow.

6 Comments leave one →
  1. October 19, 2009 1:26 am

    Aside from anything else, I can address point number one because yes, it happens to me all the time. I can recall vividly stupid things I said 30 years ago.

    But for the rest of it, it sounds so very sad. Oh dear.

  2. freshhell permalink
    October 19, 2009 7:46 am

    As for your first paragraph, yes. This is what happens to me every time I go out in public. Every time.

  3. October 19, 2009 9:19 am

    Me three. I love your term for it, post-socialization remorse.

    It’s worst at very sad occasions. At the death of one of my own beloved relatives, I kept getting the urge to giggle. Nervous laughter, always my downfall.

  4. The Lass permalink
    October 19, 2009 9:20 am

    I’m one of those who can relate to the first paragraph – add in my mortification at realizing I’ve been mispronouncing your real name.

    THANK YOU and Julia so much for coming. I was in some kind of altered reality yesterday to start with and then when the rooms filled up with people it was really all I could do to not run. Did you see my mom trying to hide during the eulogy? I tried to get her to come stand with Ethan and me but she couldn’t do it. I think my heart is breaking more for her with this than when my dad died. It’s horrific.

  5. October 19, 2009 9:31 am

    Oh, please. How could you know? It’s not pronounced like it’s spelled. And besides, you know someone who has a very similar name but who pronounces it differently. And several of my relatives, including one of my grandmothers, never pronounce it right either.

    Because of where I was standing, I had a perfect view of your mom during the whole thing and it was about the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever seen. I had to look at the floor most of the time because I was afraid I was going to cry or run over there and alarm her by hugging her. And then when we were saying goodbye and she said goodbye to me by name “and I’m so glad to hear AJ is doing well,” it just about made me lose it. Because in that situation, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even remember my own name.

  6. crankygirl permalink
    October 19, 2009 10:12 am

    Yes to the first paragraph–I spent much of yesterday worrying because I hadn’t said goodbye to the hostess on Saturday. This morning I discovered she was unfazed.

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