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Well, that was the most harrowing two hours of my life.
Funerals are really depressing-- to state the obvious. I spent the service in the front row with my sisters, but the problem with that was that the casket was right infront of me. Like, a metre away. It wasn't open, but I couldn't stop staring at it the whole service, thinking "Oh god a person who was alive 24 hours ago and is now dead is less than a metre away from me, in a claustrophobic box, dead dead dead, oh god oh god." Ughhh.
After the service, we went out onto the grounds to see the casket buried. That was the worst bit. Helena's father-- Helena is the name of Dad's first wife, the woman who died-- had managed to hold it together all through the service remarkably, even while giving his incredibly moving speech. He's a stiff upper lip sort of guy. Even though he's no blood relative of mine, I've been with my sisters to see him now and then. But the moment his daughter's coffin started being lifted down into the grave, he just broke down. To see an old man sobbing, that was the hardest thing I've ever watched.
Then came the part where the mourners were supposed to go up to the pile of earth next to the grave and shovel some earth back on. Most only did one or two half hearted shovels, but Sharon, my second eldest sister started really going at it vehemently like the earth was offending her just by existing. She just kept on shoveling earth much longer than anyone else had, going at it angrily. She's always claimed to hate her mother. Even now, I can't work out if her body language then was because she was trying to say good riddance, or because she was angry at herself, or because she was angry at her mother for dying, or... what. I worry about her the most, now. At least all my other sisters had a good cry, and let themselves be hugged by others. She wouldn't make herself open to anyone. It was like she was determined not to make a big scene, that's just like her, you know? But if she bottles it up like that, she won't have a healthy outlet.
Sorry to fill your f-lists with this morbid stuff. But I feel a little better for writing it down.
Funerals are really depressing-- to state the obvious. I spent the service in the front row with my sisters, but the problem with that was that the casket was right infront of me. Like, a metre away. It wasn't open, but I couldn't stop staring at it the whole service, thinking "Oh god a person who was alive 24 hours ago and is now dead is less than a metre away from me, in a claustrophobic box, dead dead dead, oh god oh god." Ughhh.
After the service, we went out onto the grounds to see the casket buried. That was the worst bit. Helena's father-- Helena is the name of Dad's first wife, the woman who died-- had managed to hold it together all through the service remarkably, even while giving his incredibly moving speech. He's a stiff upper lip sort of guy. Even though he's no blood relative of mine, I've been with my sisters to see him now and then. But the moment his daughter's coffin started being lifted down into the grave, he just broke down. To see an old man sobbing, that was the hardest thing I've ever watched.
Then came the part where the mourners were supposed to go up to the pile of earth next to the grave and shovel some earth back on. Most only did one or two half hearted shovels, but Sharon, my second eldest sister started really going at it vehemently like the earth was offending her just by existing. She just kept on shoveling earth much longer than anyone else had, going at it angrily. She's always claimed to hate her mother. Even now, I can't work out if her body language then was because she was trying to say good riddance, or because she was angry at herself, or because she was angry at her mother for dying, or... what. I worry about her the most, now. At least all my other sisters had a good cry, and let themselves be hugged by others. She wouldn't make herself open to anyone. It was like she was determined not to make a big scene, that's just like her, you know? But if she bottles it up like that, she won't have a healthy outlet.
Sorry to fill your f-lists with this morbid stuff. But I feel a little better for writing it down.