This is still grief blogging, and I'm trying to keep the heavy stuff after the jump. For those who haven't been following, discussion of depression and suicide ahead.
My first thought this morning was: "Holy fuck, I missed my brother's funeral. Way to sleep til noon, you asshole." The funeral is Monday, so, that didn't happen. I guess all I can say is that the mind works in mysterious ways.
I had the draft of the obituary in my inbox when I woke up. I forgot to tell you guys, the amazing funeral director had a FORM. All we had to do was fill in the blanks. Forms are amazing, because they are always easy. Easy is a relative term.
He needs to hear back from me, and there's not a reason in the world that I can think of that the obituary isn't okay. But, I need to wait for my sister first.
Other things I forgot to tell you: On Wednesday night I accidentally clocked myself in the head with a piece of wooden moulding. My sister describes it best, as two 2 x 4's glued together. We keep joking that our brother must've thought that was the only way I'd sleep the first night. He failed to account for the two hours I had to stay up and be repeatedly checked for concussion. I don't have one, just a steadily shrinking lump.
My sister and I have never missed our mother more than we did yesterday. She died of cancer in 99. My grief resume is better than my real resume, you know. It includes gems like Dad- '92- also suicide and Close Female Friend - '13 - random fucking blood clot.
There's so much more I want to say, but I have to go buy my brother a suit now. So. I'll see you guys later?