Things continue to be very strange. The funeral was yesterday, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be and not as sad either. But in a bad way, like it just continued to feel somber and weird but not like a twenty two year old is dead forever type bad.
And having the wake at her house just felt wrong, because Mia was there and it was like, I've done a million of these family gatherings, for lots of reasons before, but with Liz as my buddy. And now it's not her and it's never going to be her again. So being with Mia instead, and seeing her picture on the table and kind of understanding that we were there because she wasn't, that this was her event, her day, was... strange. Underwhelming is the wrong word because it did hit me and I haven't stopped thinking about it, but it wasn't overwhelming either, like it just occurred to me and I thought 'oh' and then I kept on keeping on. Like the saying 'You die twice, once when you stop breathing and twice, when someone says your name for the last time.' I always pictured that as like someone in some far off place hitting a gong and the reverberations are felt faintly by everyone-- not enough to know why, but its still a very significant moment. That's how it felt to see her picture on the table.
~~
Things are still progressing in an expected way. I'm still very sad, I'm still very confused, but I know it's all still normal to feel disconnected from the rest of everyday life at this point and to jump around when it comes to thinking about Lizzy and that she's gone/ having hope that she's not.
I think apart from struggling to have interest in other stuff, I'm okay. I hate that things are the way they are, and I feel like her death put a lot of things in perspective. I had a few intrusive thoughts of the 'if I knew there was an afterlife, I'd kill myself so she wouldn't be alone' variety, because it does kill me to know that if any part of her survived, like her soul or whatever, and she's living on somewhere by herself, that if I were her, I would be very, very scared and I would want someone with me. Like when Rose died in Titanic, it was okay, she was coming home to everyone that she'd loved, but when you die before everyone else, I don't think it's like that.
I mean, I don't think I believe in an afterlife, but especially now, it's not a very firm belief. I want to believe that Liz is in heaven. I want to believe that she's watching over me, that she hears my prayers, that she is still out there thinking about things and it's not 'what she would have wanted' past tense, but that she still wants things and has opinions, we just can't talk to her about them anymore. That's comforting and I'm willing to believe that right now. It's too much to believe that someone that was just as much a person with thoughts and feelings and opinions and emotions as me, is suddenly gone. She was still here two weeks ago. A month ago she was writing in her diary, just like I'm blogging right now.
When I go out, I keep thinking what would happen if I died in a car accident and suddenly I was gone too. I have a lot of morbid thoughts actually. Not super intrusive, not like clinically a problem, but still there. Just like being aware that life ends quickly and randomly, and when someone dies, nothing ends except them. Or you.
I don't know. As useless as it is, I just want Liz back. I miss her.
I spent so much time knowing the end was coming. From the time she got cancer until the time she died was about a year. It was just always so frustrating because nothing ever happened, she never looked sick. I just wanted it to be like a movie, where she got noticeably sick and lost her hair and went to hospital for treatment but then got better and stayed better. Instead it was just same same same until suddenly everything went much worse.
Like, it's probably the worst thing I thought in the last year but I just wanted her to get sicker, like actually looking sick, because I thought that was the only way to get her completely better. You go down to go up, you know? But instead, it just remained theoretical. Like, Stage $ doesn't mean anything unless you actually can feel side effects. For the most part, she never felt anything from the tumours, and it was just the drugs that made her sick, and that made it hard to conceptualise.
I don't know what I want now. I want to talk about her, but also I find it very difficult not to be glib when talking about her with other people. I just have the urge to be hyper realistic about it, to just state facts and say that I'm fine, or at least doing alright and not wanting to talk about it. I don't think that's how I actually want to talk about it but I don't know how to express myself. Maybe I'll never get the real chance to talk about it in the conditions that I want to. Because a) I don't actually know what I want, and b) maybe it won't be what I want anyway.
Like I said, this is all very strange.
And having the wake at her house just felt wrong, because Mia was there and it was like, I've done a million of these family gatherings, for lots of reasons before, but with Liz as my buddy. And now it's not her and it's never going to be her again. So being with Mia instead, and seeing her picture on the table and kind of understanding that we were there because she wasn't, that this was her event, her day, was... strange. Underwhelming is the wrong word because it did hit me and I haven't stopped thinking about it, but it wasn't overwhelming either, like it just occurred to me and I thought 'oh' and then I kept on keeping on. Like the saying 'You die twice, once when you stop breathing and twice, when someone says your name for the last time.' I always pictured that as like someone in some far off place hitting a gong and the reverberations are felt faintly by everyone-- not enough to know why, but its still a very significant moment. That's how it felt to see her picture on the table.
~~
Things are still progressing in an expected way. I'm still very sad, I'm still very confused, but I know it's all still normal to feel disconnected from the rest of everyday life at this point and to jump around when it comes to thinking about Lizzy and that she's gone/ having hope that she's not.
I think apart from struggling to have interest in other stuff, I'm okay. I hate that things are the way they are, and I feel like her death put a lot of things in perspective. I had a few intrusive thoughts of the 'if I knew there was an afterlife, I'd kill myself so she wouldn't be alone' variety, because it does kill me to know that if any part of her survived, like her soul or whatever, and she's living on somewhere by herself, that if I were her, I would be very, very scared and I would want someone with me. Like when Rose died in Titanic, it was okay, she was coming home to everyone that she'd loved, but when you die before everyone else, I don't think it's like that.
I mean, I don't think I believe in an afterlife, but especially now, it's not a very firm belief. I want to believe that Liz is in heaven. I want to believe that she's watching over me, that she hears my prayers, that she is still out there thinking about things and it's not 'what she would have wanted' past tense, but that she still wants things and has opinions, we just can't talk to her about them anymore. That's comforting and I'm willing to believe that right now. It's too much to believe that someone that was just as much a person with thoughts and feelings and opinions and emotions as me, is suddenly gone. She was still here two weeks ago. A month ago she was writing in her diary, just like I'm blogging right now.
When I go out, I keep thinking what would happen if I died in a car accident and suddenly I was gone too. I have a lot of morbid thoughts actually. Not super intrusive, not like clinically a problem, but still there. Just like being aware that life ends quickly and randomly, and when someone dies, nothing ends except them. Or you.
I don't know. As useless as it is, I just want Liz back. I miss her.
I spent so much time knowing the end was coming. From the time she got cancer until the time she died was about a year. It was just always so frustrating because nothing ever happened, she never looked sick. I just wanted it to be like a movie, where she got noticeably sick and lost her hair and went to hospital for treatment but then got better and stayed better. Instead it was just same same same until suddenly everything went much worse.
Like, it's probably the worst thing I thought in the last year but I just wanted her to get sicker, like actually looking sick, because I thought that was the only way to get her completely better. You go down to go up, you know? But instead, it just remained theoretical. Like, Stage $ doesn't mean anything unless you actually can feel side effects. For the most part, she never felt anything from the tumours, and it was just the drugs that made her sick, and that made it hard to conceptualise.
I don't know what I want now. I want to talk about her, but also I find it very difficult not to be glib when talking about her with other people. I just have the urge to be hyper realistic about it, to just state facts and say that I'm fine, or at least doing alright and not wanting to talk about it. I don't think that's how I actually want to talk about it but I don't know how to express myself. Maybe I'll never get the real chance to talk about it in the conditions that I want to. Because a) I don't actually know what I want, and b) maybe it won't be what I want anyway.
Like I said, this is all very strange.
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