2016 has been a year filled with death thus far. Celebrities, friends, friends of friends. It seems everyone I know knows someone else whose died in the last 3 weeks. Aside from some musician idols, two weeks ago a friend I went to middle school and high school with passed away. Her and I hadn't talked in the last few years, but she went out with one of my good friends, and we hung out and talked on more than one occasion. It was the first time someone that was more than an acquaintance had died. She found hard drugs the past few years. Apparently she had gotten off them, but perhaps she decided to use again, and overdosed. She might have thought she could take what she used to, or perhaps it was a bad cut of something. Either way, she's dead and gone.
Two Mondays ago I had to go to the wake. I prepared for the worst. I drank a bit, and went with some friends. We also met our good friend who she'd dated for a long long time. They were meant for each other. The only other wake I had been to any time recently was my friend's dad 2 years before and that was brutal, so i had no idea what was in store even still. We talked for a while on the way over as we picked up a friend we hadn't talked to in a while and chatted about this and that. He had gotten a vape machine and the other two were chatting about them. I felt good, like I was dressed to go out, or to a show, and not to a wake.
We pulled up the side street and into the parking lot, I had to drive around a second time as the place was packed. I was now expecting a blood bath. Not only was I loathing people sobbing at a wake, which would in turn, make me sob. But selfishly, and even more so, I would be seeing a lot of people I went to High School with I had not seen in over 5 years, that I did NOT want to see. We got out, and the other two lit up smokes to kill time before going in. It was cold out, we weren't even in a proper parking spot but it was dark and it was obvious why we were there. We walked in greeted by our friend. He thanked us for coming and we eventually headed in. Through the lobby we found the bathroom, I needed to go. I can't remember now if it was to stall the inevitable or if it was for real. We signed the book. I've made it a humorous, and possibly rude and disrespectful ritual at wakes, to add a false name to the book. Everyone is leaving their names and addresses. I won't mention what name I leave. In my defense I've only twice now and to people I know could handle the joke and the deceased would think it funny.
She was cremated. Days before the wake. That made it easier. The three of us stood in line and shook hands with strangers we've never known or will ever know. We heard through the grape vine some not-so-great things about her parents. Her mother was a basket case acting as the family martyr. She apologized profusely to all standing in line as she desperately needed to go out and have a smoke. That's the kind of person she was I suppose. She somehow took hold of her deceased daughter's Facebook and has since posted essays of incomprehensible posts that would rival a college thesis but did so without using a single period or paragraph break. It perfectly described her scrambled mind. I felt no pain for her. As we left she insisted on giving everyone hugs heading out the door as she stopped a large group leaving. She announced everyone should sign the book and hoped everyone had left their addresses so she could send us all cards as if she ever cared before. Sad. Capitalizing on her daughter's death to be the center of attention.
Aside from that, it wasn't that bad. Nobody was crying, nobody sobbing, no moments of silence, mostly good thoughts and a good get together. Nobody I knew from High School was there when we were there, and the four of us hung out for about half an hour watching a slideshow as her music played before we decided to go. overall it was a less than somber experience and I didn't see one person shed a tear. We were respectful for sure, but I not once felt the need to suppress my sadness or hold back tears. I was with friends and we were in a specific kind of company I suppose. Other people walking around seemed like they were used to going to these things I guess too. That helped. I wasn't even creeped out by her shrine and pictures in the main room.
The following Saturday it snowed. The news claimed feet. We got inches. Still, it was hairy driving as we were going into the city as it came down. We were headed to a show we had bought tickets for and were excited to see. As we got off 93 I checked my phone. Another friend had passed away. "Damnit!" I yelled as I tossed my phone to my feet. I knew it could take it. "What?" My buddy in the drivers seat asked, a bit of apprehension and, "I already know something bad is coming" in his voice as he asked. In college, one of my roommates was from Lawrence. I went to school with some of his friends and we were basically from the same stomping ground...almost. Close enough! I was from Methuen. At some point a girl had visited our room. She was also from Lawrence. Her name was Hollie. We all talked for a while and ever since we had this unspoken friendship. When we saw each other in the halls we would always nod or smile and give a silent "hey!" In reality, I think we both desperately wanted to have an hour long conversation with each other. I felt like she could be my best friend but I was always too anxious to randomly start a friendship. In reality, I knew nothing about her, other than where she was from, and her birthday being on Christmas. Brutal. I'm not sure if we ever spoke again in person. But always a nod, and online we'd like each other's snarky or sarcastic posts about life etc.
I left school prematurely and she went on to graduate like the model student she most likely was. May of 2014 she walked across the stage, November, she discovered she had cancer. Yea. She had five months of freedom. Five. From pre-school, to kindergarten, to elementary, to middle school, to high school, to college. Probably from the age of 6 to 23, she was a student, in school. She was out for five damn months. And for over a year, she found out, and eventually began living at the hospital. Over the course of the year, I had told myself I would visit. Especially recently as it was her birthday. Every few days it would pop into my head; that I was going to surprise her as if she'd even be happy to see me. But I figured anyone in the hospital long enough stops getting as many visitors. I always thought about it. But I'm not going to pretend I was remotely close to going. I probably wouldn't have next month or the month after or even a year from now had she still been there. The thought to me was selfish and feel-good enough to keep me complacent I suppose. I really wanted to, but I never did. Hindsight's 20/20, and everyone has their "if only's" after someone is gone, so that's mine.
It put a somber note on my Saturday evening, heading to that show afterwards. We barely got there intact sliding all over, a few inches had falled by now, and with traffic, we were very late. We ran through the snow, past the venue, and had to stop and ask. We arrived huffing and puffing sitting down near the stage catching the last 4 songs of the set we came to see. A waitress asked about us and we politely declined in silence, not being able to utter a breath. As much as I was working out, running is a whole different animal. I thought about my friend off and on all night. I was quite removed from it too though. I realized later I never really knew her at all. To act like I did would be a lie and travesty to her memory. I posted some sappy thing like I did with the other friend a week earlier and a song, but after reading how she'd be appalled at anything sappy, I deleted it. Like I said, no idea. It seems she was fighting until the end, although accepting her fate long ago at the same time. Waiting. Imagine? You know what's coming, it's inevitable. A blessing and a curse. Who gets to know when they die? In some ways I would like to know, maybe not, but if I have more to say, I would like a heads up. A curse obviously being self explanatory; a cancer you cannot beat. A death sentence.
So now today, three days later, I am dressed for another wake. Except this time, there will be no alcohol to dull the pain of others I will inevitably see, no friends to lean on and talk to in awkward silences or create small talk with. No one to loathe seeing, no family members or friends of hers that I despise to distract me, no comedic relief from friends, no false celebrity names in the book registry, no head shaking or talks about drugs. Not one reason to go, or leave or stay. I remembered I bought a burrito last night on an unrelated venture. Writing this, I remember her and I joked a year ago about how she couldn't eat them now.
I always want to be able to eat a burrito.