MTLBYAKY

Many, many thanks to everyone who left supportive comments on my last post. Life hasn't gotten much easier since then, but I think it's time I come out from under the proverbial rock and continue with life.

After trudging through last week's classes (the ones that I actually attended), I drove home with Bret on Saturday. I didn't do much that day except drive and spend time with my mom. I did go see Good Hair with Ben that night, and OH MY GOODNESS. Hilarious. And surprisingly really interesting! I learned a lot. You should see it if it's still playing where you live.

On Sunday morning I had to get up around 7:30, even though I had only been asleep for about 3 hours. Ok, I didn't HAVE to get up, but my littlest brother was playing his first trombone solo in church. I wouldn't felt like a horrible (though admittedly well-rested) sister if I hadn't gone. He played well. It was nice to be back in my home church, especially during such a hard time. It was bizarre, though, to see my family listed in the "We express our deepest sympathy to:" section in the order of worship. I've always glanced through those names quickly, mostly out of curiosity, without fully comprehending the agony those people were feeling. But now I know. Yippy.

Some of my mom's family started coming over in the afternoon, so we spent most of the day talking and reminiscing and occasionally eating. I silently marveled at the fact that Uncle Buddy is outliving everyone. He's in his mid-eighties and still going relatively strong. It's pretty amazing. Per my mother's request, I was able to convince a few of my (amazingly generous) friends to drive down and sing with me for the services. We practiced for a while when Marissa and Costas arrived, and then we had a slumber party. Well, most of us. Bret ditched us for his boyfriend.

I woke up Monday morning dreading the day but feeling a sense of purpose. We made the sojourn to Covington, Bret with Marissa and Costas with me. The whole day felt like deja vu; we did almost everything the same as we did 3 years ago for Memom's funeral. The visitation and the service were terribly sad, but again, it was really nice to be surrounded by family and old family friends, many of whom I hadn't seen in a long time. I really can't capture in words the way I felt that morning. The proper words don't exist. I managed to make it though all of the songs (even "In the Garden," which we sang for Memom) without losing it. I know it would have been perfectly fine if I had lost it, but I guess I wanted to be strong for my mom.

After the service we hopped back into the cars, and some of us caravaned to Mississippi for the burial, stopping on the way for a Piccadilly lunch, of course. The graveside service was pretty short, and we sang again. The minister was nice but just a bit too cheesy-preachy for my taste. It's always strange being back in a familiar graveyard, visiting the graves of people you knew well in life. I'm not sure why, but it was oddly comforting seeing my grandparents together again. Well, oddly comforting in a way that makes me want to weep hysterically. Bleh. We drove back to school straight from there, and everyone else went home.

So there you go. I really don't mind if you didn't read all the way through this thing. I just wanted to type it out for memory's sake. Not that I could ever forget.

Now I must go trudge through two more days of school before I get to go home again for Thanksgiving. I'm so behind in school. If you're the praying sort, please help me pray for C's. Love, Kaitlyn.

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