Welcome To The Bitchery

Yesterday and today have managed to blur together a little bit.

You know it almost happened. I almost did sleep through my brother's funeral. I woke up at the time we'd intended to leave. We were out the door in 20 minutes. I did not brush my hair— it's short now anyway— or bother to put on makeup.

As we walked into the funeral parlor 20 minutes late (The Nerdy Mr was amazing driving us there.). It's funny, on Sunday I hadn't wanted to go near the casket, much like The Nerdy Mr hadn't. But yesterday morning my sister and I knelt in front of it and I didn't want to leave.


The pallbearers were a cousin, an uncle, The Nerdy Mr, and a close friend who Dan had lived with for a while. You know, people who'd helped to carry him through life at one point or another.

The funeral was, well, it was what it was. I lost my shit when we came in and my opera-singing cousin started to sing Amazing Grace (Dan had loved that song a lot). It's not that I'd expected to be able to hold it together or anything— I can't hold it together through waking up in the morning just yet. But, I had hoped to make it through at least the first word without exploding into unintelligible sobbing.

There is a thing that grated on my sister like crazy. The priests (both the night before and at the funeral) kept calling him Danny. When he was around 8, my brother decided he didn't want anyone to call him that anymore, and had embarked on a serious campaign to have people call him Dan. She spent half of mass huddled over so people wouldn't have to see her cringe every time they said— what amounted to the wrong name for the man.

My cousin sang "Daniel" for my sister, as Dan had asked her to sing it at his funeral when we were morbid little kids attending our parents' funerals. It made me feel better that our cousin couldn't quite make it through the song either.


I gave the eulogy, which is its own standalone piece that, since I've already been asked a few times, I'm just going to say here is fine to share wherever with whomever, especially if you think it will help someone. People were moved by it. A number of people said so in a blur of hugs and, "what you said. . . "'s. I could remember that better.

This is just hard you guys.

At the cemetery, things were weird. The board they'd put down had such a wobble I thought I was going to fall in the grave when I put my rose down. And most of the people there were standing on my mother. Everyone was watching my sister and I cry. Just weird.


The repast was nice. I turned down a lot of drinks. Which is good, because I was surprisingly trashed off of two glasses of wine and a shot.

I came home and just wanted to lie down. I did for a while. Played some video games.


My sister came home from taking my brother's girlfriend and she and I sat around crying and created entirely new events in the I'm Sorry Olympics. At some point, still crying, I fell asleep.

ETA: I'd meant to include the link to the eulogy which is here.

Share This Story

Get our newsletter