12.08.01

Don't you know you are a shooting star

11.56

He told me that this song makes him think about dancing outside with someone. Now this song makes me think of him.

Liam told me, "Just make sure he doesn't hurt you, cause it's easy. . . plus then I'd have to go and kick his ass for you. . ." It made me smile.

10.30

Let's recap:

Thursday
Zach called me, at 2.30, as I suspected he would. Asked me over, called back two minutes later, asked why I wans't there, to ignore everyone else and come right to him. I got there and he was barely functionable. I mean that in every way possible. He was saying things I didn't understand and then as he sobered up he was saying things that I understood too well.

He told me I was amazing, unique, trustworthy, awesome. . . everything. He told me that he really liked me a lot and that he hoped I felt the same way. he told me about the worst mistake he ever made, about how it made him feel like the worst person on earth. How he wouldn't ever do that again. And it was awesome. And scary. Because as we touched each other we didn't do anything but look into each other's eyes. And the whole time I though, "I think I'm falling in love with you." It made my heart pound fast.

I told him that I had writen a poem, but that he coudn't read it until he was sober. I put the folded up piece of paper on his desk before I left in the morning.

Friday
My parents picked me up early, earlier than they said, as I knew they would. My mom told me I looked tired. I didn't tell her that I laid in Zach's bed until 6.30 in the morning. i told her that I had gone to bed a little late. We squished everything into my dad's car, picked him up and drove to Windsor. To sweep my little brother (who is now well over six feet, beautiful smile, glasses that make him look older, and has sometime over these last few years become extremely handsome) away from his life as a private school student and take him to Kentville. We checked into the hotel, drove to the funeral home and met relatives. Some that I know, some that know me, and some I've never met in my life. I kept it in, I didn't say much but I didn't cry. I refused to cry. Not about this one, not in front of these people I don't know. And we sat there for two long hours, ate supper, had a nap and sat there for two more long hours.

We went back to our hotel, and relatives started trickling in through the door of my parent's room. Drinks and stories (I know all those stories, but I love them). And more drinks and better stories. And no tears. Those are the best times during deaths. The happy drinks and laughs and stories.

I went to be before everyone had left, snuck into my cold, unconfortable room, slipped into my cozy pyjamas, and crawled into bed. I hugged a pillow because I felt lonely. The whole time I was wondering what it would be like if he was there. The whole time I wanted him there.

Saturday
We gathered at Grenich United Church, more family than was there yesterday. we filed in one by one, sat in old pews and prepared to listen. I stared at the stain glass window bhind the minister's head and told myself, "Don't you dare cry." And I didn't. Until during the singing of Amazing Grace, I heard my mother's voice falter and stop, and I heard her cry. And I thought of all her loss, and all her strength. And that the only thing that I can do is be there for her and hold her hand. That I'm the only woman she has left, that I don't know how strong I can be for her. I thought about her sister, how I didn't cry when they told me. How I didn't cy until I saw her in her coffin, and my brothers and I broke down simultaniously, how we sobbed harder than her sons. How if it was my mother laying there I wouldn't be as strong as they were.

And I thought about the day it's my mother, or my best friend. If her parents would remember me, remember to call me. I thought about if it was my father, how I would regret so many unspoken words between us. That all went through my mind as it always does when I think about death in a few moments, lost moments. I looked around me and saw all those old, worn people.

We went to the graveyard, went back to the church, ate sandwiches and drank tea appropriately.

Drove home and bought a Christmas tree, rented a movie. Sat on the couch with my parents watched it, drank Coca-cola and ate chips.

And now here I am. Listening to Bob Dylan, wishing that she was online. I think I'll download some more songs, amybe unpack. Sleep.

wunderwuman at

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