Wednesday evening, post-Mark

[scarlettina]

markbourne's formal funeral is tomorrow morning. I've been working pretty hard on stuff around Mark's death, including managing communications, disseminating information, and preparing the program for the funeral service. How difficult that last item was. It looks good, and were he here, I think he'd be pleased, if a little chagrined. He might do his Charlie Chaplin mustache wiggle; if he did that, I'd know he was dubious about this whole effort. A formal funeral is so unlike anything he'd want (we're doing it more for the family). There might be eye-rolling and possibly inappropriate jokes. The fact that there will be none of that is another reminder that all of this painfully real, and painfully permanent.

I know that some of my very closest friends will be present tomorrow, and that will be a gift. But every time I think about what's to come, something in me wilts. I feel like everything has been squeezed out of me. The closer we get, the harder it is to consider this formal farewell.

Everyone wants to talk, and I have nothing left in me. At the same time, I want to talk, but I have no words that can express anything like what I'm feeling. I want so badly to write about Mark, to tell you about the person I knew, my blond-haired, blue-eyed twin born on the same day but one year and hundreds of miles apart. But it's not in me, not yet. I will miss him forever.

Comments

[gnomi.livejournal.com]

::big hugs::

I know it's hard, but what you are doing now for Mark and for Elizabeth is one of the biggest mitzvot a person can perform.