So it's been a strange couple of weeks. On the 25th, at the end of the week that my boyfriend and I broke up, things got dramatically worse. My mom called to tell me that my cousin Matthew had died. It came as a huge shock. He was only 38, and the cousin that I was closest to. We still don't know how he died. He'd been complaining of really bad headaches for the couple of days before, and he was already dressed to go to work when he was found the next day. The currrent theory is that it was an aneurism or something like that.
So I spent the better part of this past week in Phoenix with his and my family. I'm still having trouble fully processing it all. The evenings where we all sat around talking, joking or reminiscing, the only thing that was missing was Matt. It felt like he was just out for the evening and he'd be walking in any minute. It wasn't until the memorial service that it started to all seem real. The pictures of him set up on a table, the stereo playing his CDs, the "saying a few words" from my father, I finally started to leak tears.
The memorial was very well put together, and the resort/spa that he worked at took care of everything, including free rooms and half-price meals for the out of town relatives. The resort staff would pick you up at your rooms in little golf cart things, and take you wherever you asked to go. Their shopping center, their spa, their restaurants, anywhere. But I couldn't appreciate the place because I was so distracted by the reason I was there.
Whenever one of the super-friendly and polite staff would try to chat me up, asking what brought me to the place, a vacation, family get-together? I'd have to answer, "Well, my cousin Matthew worked at the cafe, and...he died last Saturday so we're here for the funeral." It kind of put a damper on things. But, I'm not good at lying, so I'd just try to avoid giving details when possible. "How are you this morning? Have a good night's sleep?" "I'm doing...okay. Got to bed late." Not mentioning the late night talks with Matt's sister Dotty, or that I was wearing all black not just because I was from New York.
But I'm back now, relishing the privacy of my little apartment, glad to be home with my dog and able to distract myself with meeting new people here and on myspace.com, designing the "Thank You" cards for my aunt to send out, and generally looking for work and trying to sell off all of my old toys and comic book paraphenalia on eBay.
I feel guilty when I successfully distract myself, like I'm being disrespectful to Matt's memory. But I know in reality that I can't be sad forever, and that Matt wouldn't want me to be. I think I've talked to him more in my head this past week than I had to him in person in over a year. That's what I regret, I guess. Not staying in better touch with him when I could. It's brought my close-knit family that much closer, thinking about how every time could be the last time, and that it's important to tell the people you love that you love them whenever you can.
So go tell someone that you love them. As Lenny Bruce once said, "There are never enough 'I love yous.'"
So I spent the better part of this past week in Phoenix with his and my family. I'm still having trouble fully processing it all. The evenings where we all sat around talking, joking or reminiscing, the only thing that was missing was Matt. It felt like he was just out for the evening and he'd be walking in any minute. It wasn't until the memorial service that it started to all seem real. The pictures of him set up on a table, the stereo playing his CDs, the "saying a few words" from my father, I finally started to leak tears.
The memorial was very well put together, and the resort/spa that he worked at took care of everything, including free rooms and half-price meals for the out of town relatives. The resort staff would pick you up at your rooms in little golf cart things, and take you wherever you asked to go. Their shopping center, their spa, their restaurants, anywhere. But I couldn't appreciate the place because I was so distracted by the reason I was there.
Whenever one of the super-friendly and polite staff would try to chat me up, asking what brought me to the place, a vacation, family get-together? I'd have to answer, "Well, my cousin Matthew worked at the cafe, and...he died last Saturday so we're here for the funeral." It kind of put a damper on things. But, I'm not good at lying, so I'd just try to avoid giving details when possible. "How are you this morning? Have a good night's sleep?" "I'm doing...okay. Got to bed late." Not mentioning the late night talks with Matt's sister Dotty, or that I was wearing all black not just because I was from New York.
But I'm back now, relishing the privacy of my little apartment, glad to be home with my dog and able to distract myself with meeting new people here and on myspace.com, designing the "Thank You" cards for my aunt to send out, and generally looking for work and trying to sell off all of my old toys and comic book paraphenalia on eBay.
I feel guilty when I successfully distract myself, like I'm being disrespectful to Matt's memory. But I know in reality that I can't be sad forever, and that Matt wouldn't want me to be. I think I've talked to him more in my head this past week than I had to him in person in over a year. That's what I regret, I guess. Not staying in better touch with him when I could. It's brought my close-knit family that much closer, thinking about how every time could be the last time, and that it's important to tell the people you love that you love them whenever you can.
So go tell someone that you love them. As Lenny Bruce once said, "There are never enough 'I love yous.'"