The final goodbye

Today was the day that I said goodbye to Chris for the last and final time. I knew that I had to see him to make my brain understand. Even though we had kept in touch, I had not seen him face to face since he left for Seattle 4 years ago. We talked on the phone, we emailed, messaged on FB. Every single time he always told me he loved us and I said the same. Almost every single time I asked him when he was coming home to us. A few times he texted to say he was coming in a few days. Then we would hear nothing for weeks. This was when he was hard and fast in his addictions. July 16 he was clean and had messaged to say he was finally coming home. July 18 he went home, but not the home we expected. He went home with Mother Goddess to the summerlands and right now I wish I could punch him dead in the face.

We did not attend the actual service, at first I was pissed. Then I was glad. We arrived a 10 minutes after they finished. My husband doesn't do well with the services. Especially since he has buried a few friends in the last two years who were younger (sometimes by 10 years) then we are. I don't like the services either. I just feel obligated. But this time, his brother needed us most for after. When he would have to walk away forever. This is the time I prefer to come and say my goodbyes or during the viewing. especially if I can get there early. I prefer to be able to be with just the people I am closest to and say my goodbyes in relative privacy. I didn't expect to fall to pieces 10 seconds in the door. But as soon as I saw him, I thought I would shake to pieces.

We sat with his immediate family and two other friends. The only people we cared to be there with, to be there for. His brother and his best friend (one and the same) had dragged all religious paraphernalia from the room before the start. Thank the gods. It wasn't Chris and it's all just bullshit. "He's gone home to be with God", you mean the God that lets little girls be mutilated and raped? The God that watches from his All Mighty seat in heaven as his people destroy each other? That's not my god. I stopped buying into all that at 14. The men who spewed about God's love, I watched them do despicable things during the week, then return to church every Sunday to be "washed clean" of their sins. There are many more reasons but this is no theology class students.

I thought watching his mom and dad say their last goodbyes was horrible. She is not his biological mom. She is/was (I keep having a problem with that was word) his step mom. But she raised him. His brother refers to the biological as "the egg donor". She was not even there today. But his mom is just devastated. even after, at his family's house where we gathered for food, she just sat and stared. But as awful as it was for me to see a parent say goodbye to their child (being a mom myself), the real agony came when his twelve year old son arrived. He did not care to come to service either. Preferring more privacy for his goodbye as well. And this is the part where I had the horrible urge to punch a corpse. Seeing his son's knees buckle at the casket. Knowing that boy, at such a young age, has to reconcile why his dad could not stay around for him. Knowing that children almost always blame themselves. Wondering why he wasn't enough for his dad to want to stay. What the fuck Chris?!? Did you even think of him?

It's not like I haven't been there. I went through a period where I fantasized nightly about walking into traffic on the big main road at the end of my street. Til I realized at 4am I would have to stand there awhile. And then it would be just one car who would probably see me in time. then I would get locked away...again. then it turned to blowing my brains out. Til I finally told my husband to hide the keys to the gun cabinet. Why? Because I could NEVER leave my children to feel like I didn't love them enough to stay.

His brother is the person we are next closest to in the family and the one we needed to be there for. After everyone had left, except for Chris's ex (who he has two children with and always remained friends with), his brother, his sister and my husband and myself, we cranked the music (mostly Nirvavna, the songs that Chris spun and made as DJ Spade, known in the Orlando area and some others thrown in). We reminisced and shared stories. I could tell his brother was not ready to leave him. He strummed Nirvana tunes on the guitar, remembering how they used to get the new albums and lock themselves in the room for hours, smoking out and learning every tune. My husband and Chris's brother placed pennies on his eyes before finally closing the casket. That is the hardest part. Closing it and walking away. For those who don't know, it is custom in some cultures to place coins, usually silver but sometimes copper, to pay the boatman that takes the deceased across the River Styx (the river of the dead). For us it is much the same, but we refer to it as "the fairy tax". The fairies will usher him home to the Mother Goddess in the Summerlands.

Go now into the summerlands and be at peace.
I will find you there someday.  

Now that it has finally set in, it won't go away. Luckily I have work to keep me busy. well at least I thought it would, of fucking course tonight has to be slow. But at least I don't have to sleep. I know I could not anyways. I am not doing well weaning down my suboxone. We all know I am stupid that way. just setting myself up for horrible sickness at just the wrong time. I am the main source of income now. I have children to look after. Why am I so damned dumb? I thought I was doing so well. I was so proud. then I fucked up again, typical.

When I started this blog, Chris lived with us. I know somewhere I have posts I have posts about "partying" with him and the girl he dated at the time. Another sort of friend. Who after Chris broke up with her, became my sort of girlfriend for awhile. I would link them but I am emotionally spent right now and exhausted. I hate saying goodbye. For someone who is borderline (personality disorder), it can be particularly excruciating. even if the person is coming back in a few days. We feel abandoned easily. My heart is broken and I am rambling now. I think it's time to go. 

But I don't want to go. I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want tomorrow to come (even though I won't be going to sleep til the daylight comes anyways). I still have Monday I suppose. We go and spread some ashes and say more goodbyes. I want to hold on to this pain. It is familiar. Something I am used to. And with tomorrow comes another and then I will start to think of him less (he has consumed my thoughts these last days). I will never forget. So many things to remind me. My husband is so funny. The dress I wore is kind of fetishy (so not a word). I asked him if it was "too much" for a funeral. I knew it wasn't really for Chris's. He would have liked it. So my dear sweet perv of a husband says "no, he would think it's hot, he did get to stick his cock in you". LOL. My husband, ever the pervert. That is his way of dealing though. If there is a way to connect sex and a funeral without being a necro, he can do it. He can connect it with anything. And on that note, I will leave you. But not for long my whores...




Time moves inside you but he won't fade...