Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Day Five
. . . and I’m still having to do the math. 9 – 4 = 5. The time dilation of grief is easing; it seemed like those first two days took a lifetime. By comparison, yesterday and today went by like lightning. I went back to work yesterday, and that has helped. Still crying my eyes out and telling too many people my business, and Karen would be turning in her grave (she was very private and would NOT have approved), except we’re going to scatter her ashes, so no turning in the grave for Karen.
Honestly, I do not understand how anyone would want a grave. Or would want to be embalmed. Or want an open casket funeral. Think of the people you leave behind: they’re left thinking of your body stuck in that one place, forever (the grave, I mean) not even decomposing naturally (the embalming, that is), and they have to have one last look at someone else’s conception of what the deceased looked like in life (talking about the open casket funeral, now). I don’t want to see Karen’s dead body or face. I want to look at the pictures of her alive, thriving as best she could thrive, and I want to think of her voice.
Which is another thing. The only recordings I have of her (that I can think of at the moment) are a youtube video, and a voice mail message in which, in an irritated voice, she’s saying, “DOUG. WHERE ARE YOU. CALL ME BACK.” I find that one strangely soothing, even if she does sound pissed off. She sounds pissed off in such a strong, healthy way.
As for the YouTube video, you can hear her at the beginning of this one saying, “I. Disavow. ANY responsibility.”
Don’t let her fool you — she loaned me her camisole, after all.
Oh, and here’s a third. Watched it just now and it made me very, very happy. (With special bonus of Jake’s pre-pubertal voice!)
Now, that’s the girl I married. I love you, Karen.
D.
