... and a funeral [ 2011-09-21, 10:42 a.m. ]

Dear Diary,

It was good to be away.

It was good to have a plan of exercise every day (yoga 4 hours per day) and enough space to do whatever I wanted in between- read, swim, walk, sleep. And sleep I did. I didn't attend any of the nighttime lectures or social activities. I wasn't much interested in getting to know anybody. A quick scan of the crowd let me know it was mostly middle-aged divorcees, older couples, and men I was not interested in (again, too old- not a young man in the room). There was one group of three women about my age, and I sat with them a couple times during meals.

And the meals were great. So nice to have someone else to cook, make those decisions and provide all the healthy stuff- organic chicken and fish and vegetables, vegetables every time. More than I can usually do for myself.

Only at the end of the weekend, when I finally checked my email in the library computer, did I learn that everyone had desperately been trying to reach me. There was no cell reception in this place, which I considered a blessing. But when I would descend from the mountains I would have a slew of messages- my sister Delia, my mom, my dad. Nice messages at first but growing irritated in tone the second or third time. My mother convinced I was ignoring her.

Huh. I guess I forgot to mention where I was going.

In any case, on Thursday night one of our neighbors (whom my parents have lived next to for over 40 years, and whom I've known since childhood) stopped breathing and was put on a respirator or ventilator or whatever that thing is called- life support. They waited till his son was able to fly home and then they took him off life support. Everyone was trying to tell me. But I was so far away- going to Serena's class right after the yoga thing... and there was no way for me to get home for the funeral. That probably would have cost me a thousand dollars or so, I'm sure.

I did dream I was at the funeral yesterday morning though. I was giving the eulogy. I talked about how the deceased was my friend's dad and I remember him from when we were very little, and how he used to come home from work and jump in the pool with us. I don't even know if this is true in real life, it feels like it could be or I just made up this memory on the spot. But at that point in the dream everyone at the funeral jumped in the pool and shouted a big "woo-hoo!" in memory of the deceased. And his two children approached me, both far younger than they are now in real life, their faces pudgy and their hair in bowl-cuts. "I don't care," said the boy. "Don't care about what?" I asked. "I don't care if I ever eat again, if I starve to death," he said. He was talking about his grief and his lack of hunger. I told him sometimes it was like that. Then someone, a young man, tipped me into the pool and we fell in together, entangled.

That was that. And now I told everyone I will come later in the week to honor the family. So, again, picking up and leaving even though I just got home last night. The very thought of it exhausts me. My mother pressuring me for times and dates over the phone, like she doesn't really believe I am coming. I want to tell her GET OFF MY BACK. I can't stand people pressuring me, for anything, even a little bit. Just give me a bit of goddamn space while I try to organize my life. Which is not helped by needing to be everyplace at once.

So I am delaying going into pt job, although it needs to be done and I made a promise to my boss. I could write more but I think I will just stop complaining about that job. It's a waste of time and you all know how much I hate it anyway.

Love,
Duck

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