Back in Durham now. We arrived back on Wednesday afternoon, completely exhausted from the weekend’s happenings.
The visitation Monday night was, as I mentioned to our friend Lauren, “suitably hellish.” That might be a little unfair, actually, because once things got rolling, it was almost fun. The worst part was being one of the first to arrive and seeing Trudie’s husband almost totally break down as he stood and looked at her in the casket.
(Aside: open-casket visitations or funerals freak me out. It’s one thing to be propped up in the corner with coins on your eyes while everybody around you gets shitfaced, Irish-style. But having the Guest of Honor lying there with an inch of troweled-on makeup, wearing her favorite sweater and one of Wife Unit’s matching bead necklaces, hands folded in repose like she’s sleeping in this perfectly clean and shiny casket? Creepy. Doubly so because people always do the same thing–they come in, view the body for a sad moment as if looking at some museum curiosity, and then spend the rest of the evening trying their damndest to ignore it.)
A lot of people showed up. I mean, a lot. At least 70 or more. Trudie had a crapton of friends, and she made quite an impression on them. And really, it became a celebration of her life, not a grieving about her passing. Lots of laughter, lots of good memories, lots of hugs. It was hard, and it was exhausting all around, but by the end of the evening, everybody felt better. The love and the caring that surrounded us for that three hour span really started the healing process.
So now, it’s back to blessed abnormalcy. I’m still looking for my next job, wondering why we’re broke, and watching Nublet veer back and forth between angelic and demonic in the way that only a two-year-old can. Wife Unit is trying to get over a cold that won’t let her go, and recover from the ordeal that 2007 has been for her.
There’ll be more later. I think I’ve got a couple of good rants warming in the oven.