The weather seems to be reflecting my mood at the moment. Yesterday it was bright (not too bright), and clear and there were drops of rain falling on dry ground, which is a wonderful smell. I spent a while sitting in a public garden talking to Man on the phone. I’ve had a nice time at work recently. I have the most awesome colleagues in the world. I mean, I know I’m biased. But I’m pretty sure it’s true.
Today it’s overcast. We’re going to my nephew’s funeral, which is one of those things that ideally no one would ever have to do, but life requires death, it keeps the cycle going. I find it confusing how many people’s reaction to death is “It’s so unfair!” Of course it’s unfair. It’s death. Biology doesn’t work on concepts of justice. If it did, vaginas would have teeth. People would be bulletproof. Burglars would find themselves rooted to the spot as soon as they tried to nick anything. But life isn’t like that. It’s beautiful and majestic and magnificent, but it’s also cruel. Well, actually, it’s not. It has no morals. It’s just fucking life. And death. Anyway.
The day he died, it rained strong and heavy on the coastline. The sea is beautiful and powerful and healing; I spent a lot of time walking along the beach, staring at the moon (it was the day when the moon was at its largest; I refuse to call it a supermoon because that makes it sound like some kind of bizarre comic-book hero).
And now I’m drinking coffee and eating white chocolate for breakfast and thinking about the funeral.
I’m not very good at funerals. Well, depending on how you look at it, perhaps I’m excellent at them. I just don’t react. I don’t cry, I don’t break down; I probably look a bit sad, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not really one for showing my emotions, which isn’t so unusual, but funerals are one of those times when even unemotional people often let rip and cry. I usually find myself thinking about how interesting funerals are as a sociological concept: when my friend died last year, we all gathered around and the coffin sat at the front of the room, and a man spoke about his life and his mother read a poem and we sang some songs. And then a curtain slowly closed around the coffin and he was gone. And I thought, closure. That’s what it’s all about. But I found it interesting, the way it was done: gathering people from all different aspects of his life to watch his body being covered up.
I probably shouldn’t think about these things at funerals. I should probably think about the person who’s died, rather than sociology. But it takes all sorts to make a world, right?