Down but Up

Deep breath.

Release.

Saturday was awful. No other way to phrase it. Really, there is no other way to describe a funeral for a young person. The Buddhist ceremony was long, and I lost track of how many times I cycled through grief and anger. Lost track of how many times my heart broke for her stricken parents, for her friends, for a world that will not know this funny, creative and intelligent girl.

I made sure to sit where I could not see the casket, could not see the picture of her wearing the pink and white designer ball cap that proclaimed Punks Not Dead, the cap that I loved to tease her about every time I saw it on her.

Unfortunately, it meant that I was sitting where I could see the screen that cycled through a memorial slideshow: here a shot of her as a child, now a graduation picture, now one of her wearing a tee shirt with the painfully poignant slogan, please don’t feed the models.

The pointlessness of it has left me angry and shattered. And weeping has left me drained and with a migraine.

****

In an effort to lift me out of it, Keith took me to Niagara Falls today. We walked around in the cold sunshine along paths with only a fraction of usual tourists. I stood for a while at my favourite spot, close to the brink, watching the water and ice slip over the edge. I have no idea how long I stood there for, but was in a much better frame of mind when Keith put an arm around me and said, “Let’s go for tea.”

Unfortunately, our quest for afternoon tea in Niagara-on-the-Lake was unsuccessful, as the place I had in mind was undergoing renovations. Yes, there are other places there for tea, but neither of us was in the right head space for a more formal tea at a high end inn.

We had one of our happy accident moments. We ended up going into an unassuming cafe, and ten minutes later we were eating a fabulous lunch of home made soup and quiche in a sunlight backroom that looked out onto a snow covered garden.

And yes, I do feel better. Mostly.