Maggie

I can't stop thinking about Maggie. Over and over in my head, for the past 36 hours, all I hear is "Maggie." It's 2am now; I've been home since about 5:30pm...and I have done absolutely nothing but sit online and watch TV in merciful peace (Dipshit's away) as it pours rain outside. It's been exactly what I needed after 3 days of running around crazy, along with the emotional hell of Maggie's wake and funeral. I shouldn't even write much because my mind is just overloaded and tired. Woke up at 6am in a Manahawkin beach house...best part of the day. I've been so damn depressed the whole night...much more so than at the wake or funeral, not that they were peppy affairs. I guess, as I noted yesterday, I just did what I had to do to steel myself through it. I'm not a crier, even at the worst of times. This is a good thing, because I have a feeling if I started, I'd be the same way as I am when I start laughing at the wrong time...uncontrollable. I'd have to be taken by force out of the funeral home and tasered on the front sidewalk, left twitching. So I just sit there, telling myself to keep it together. Maybe I was extra numb today, because it wasn't that difficult. It helped that the funeral wasn't in a church, with a long procession and endless "shoot me now" hymns. Instead, it was a brief, 30-minute ceremony in the funeral home, led by an Episcopalian priest. And there were no family member eulogies, as I've been made used to. JUST the priest, end of story. Thank GOD. Lastly, there was no trip to the cemetery. Private cremation. This, though, was almost worse...for the time came when we all made our final viewing of the body, which is just miserable. Absolutely miserable. And then greet the family again before making our way outside. I nervously grappled to put my gum in a tissue in my back pocket as I inched toward the casket, SURE it'd fall out as I embraced Barb, Billy, or Will. That's right...hours later, I found the gum all over my pant pocket. And so we then lingered outside...and before we knew it, the casket was coming out...which we didn't expect. And pall bearers -- Will and his & Maggie's friends -- placed it into the hearse. And, well, we made our way to our cars to leave the immediate family that last bit of private time...before the hearse rode off to the crematorium. There's just no gentle way to say that. It's the darkest reality there is...and I've been thinking about it all day. I just can't comprehend so much. HOW in the name of God did Billy and Barb and Will proceed to the VFW hall...and laugh and chat? Drink, I can understand. And they did. And Barb was smoking, too...but no one in charge dared tell her to put it out. I don't think anyone even cared or recalled it's against the law now. But HOW does a parent and brother laugh when their daughter and sister has just been buried? I found myself catching glances at them whenever I could, macabrely fascinated by how one carries on. It WAS a CELEBRATION of her life, though...which I can appreciate, hard as it can be. There was even a radio playing toe-tapping pop music at the VFW, along with tons of Maggie's photos laid out for people to look through. But what does her family do when they get home? If I'M depressed once the funeral hoopla ends, God only knows what they are going through. Will lost his only sibling; two great kids Billy and Barb raised. I worry about all of them, but you just hope that your presence provided the SLIGHTEST bit of comfort to them. Unprecedented heavy sigh. So i'm left feeling both unspeakably depressed and full of a zest for life at the exact same time. An APPRECIATION for life...again. I'm a fool if Maggie's death doesn't put everything in a new light.