Exhausting Death

Beyond the sadness and the travel and the early mornings and all that comes with a funeral, it seems to me that death is so tiring because your brain has to do all this work to get the reality of someone moved from alive to no-longer-alive. And we resist big new ideas, now, don’t we?

Bob, my fine father-in-law-if-right-wing-conservatives-would-stop-their-prejudice, is dead. Strong word, dead. The three biggest words on earth, really, are alive, love and dead. They are the basis to all stories. Getting the brain to move someone you know so well to transition in between those words is quite something, especially if you are resistant to change like I am.

I think by tomorrow I will begin to approach the dead thing as if it’s real. Dead. Bob is dead. It’s weird to type it.

I only feel warmth when I type it, though. It’s the word Bob that does it.