Nosh: out of tears

out of tears

I don't know exactly when the line of people became an endless line of people. There were relatives and friends, and friends of friends, and neighbors from 20 years ago. Women from her senior club. Whenever I was home, I'd go with her to meet her women friends at a diner nearby called Yesterday's Diner.

Wakes are strange. I stood near the coffin with my siblings, watched people kneel in front of it and cry. Then they'd rise and turn to us, and tell us "I'm so sorry." I didn't know a quarter of the people ... but there were a lot of people. I thought the line would never end. We stood there for three hours, alternately consoling people, making small-talk, and falling apart. I'm amazed at the sheer number of people who knew my mother and came there in the same agony and shock as her own sons and daughters. It tells a lot about who she was.

At some point, I shook with sobs but was out of actual tears.

Tomorrow there are two sessions: 2 p.m to 5 p.m, and 7 p.m to 10 p.m.
Tonight, it was only 7-10. I'm exhausted and can't sleep, won't sleep. I don't want to wake up not remembering, and then suddenly remember. I dread the pain of that.

In between the sessions, we invite relatives and really nice, awesome friends to hang out for food. I'm actually looking forward to that because a) it's all taken care of and b) I can really talk to people without awkwardly standing in the front of a room that contains my mom's body. It's going to be a long day though, longer than the day that I stepped off the plane in N.Y. It feels like it's been a week but it was only Wednesday (and today is Saturday).

So many people said "See you tomorrow". It's amazing. I think people will come for the duration, each wake day and the funeral. So many people hugged us. My dad began with sobs and ended with, what looked like to me, a deep sense of happiness at all the love surrounding her.