Vortex, I wouldn't worry about it being awkward. Your friends want to know how you really are, tears or not, and they love you. I know because I am one.

Your friends want to know how you really are, tears or not, and they love you.

friends I'm fine with. it's random coworkers and acquaintances. Plus, since he died unexpectedly, they all want to know what happened. This is actually good, since I've repeated the story so many times, it's almost like it happened to someone else.

I sometimes have a selfish reaction when people say "oh, my dad died when he was 84" and I think "why didn't my dad get that long?". They're trying to be empathetic because they know somewhat what I'm going through, but when they tell me about their dad's long life, I resent it a little. But that's normal, I suppose. Or I'm a selfish bitch. Either way, it is what it is.

it's random coworkers and acquaintances. Plus, since he died unexpectedly, they all want to know what happened.

Oh yeah, I can see what you mean there.

::climbs into corner and looks for things to smash::

Vortex, it sucks. You get sick of saying and hearing certain phrases. No one else's grief is the same, and yet we are all alike. I don't know if it is always going to hit you in small ways, or if one day it will blow all the coping you've been doing out of the water. All I know for sure is that this is a safe place.

Now would be a brilliant time for Buffista Island to suddenly become a reality, so that the safe place that this is could be more than virtual hairpats and punctuation.

You get sick of saying and hearing certain phrases

Wrod. You wish you had cards you could hand out so you wouldn't have to have the same awkward conversation over and over. It makes me with for mourning garb to come back so people would see it and realize that a bit more delicacy is needed.

t not really here

Vortex, death is such a difficult thing to manuver around socially. I know when Alex died I thought I would strangle the next person who told me he was in a better place, because uhm no, the better place would be alive with us and going on his first date, having a beer with his dad, jeez even getting to start his first year of high school.

But you don't say any of that, you just sort of fake smile appreciatively.

I think any death of a close loved one is always with you, particularly sudden ones (but god, like Tara says, "It's always sudden"). It's been almost 6 years since my little brother died (possibly strange and callous side note, the date was the same day Objects in Space aired) and last Thursday I was at a pool hall and that Ringo Starr song "Never Without You" came on and I completely melted down.

And am in fact doing so now, so I'm gonna stop.

Hec, I'm reading a book for my YA lit class that I think you'd enjoy. It's called King Dork and is kind of like a modern-day Catcher in the Rye (though said King Dork would cringe like a mofo if heard that - he's not a fan). I've found myself chuckling more than once while reading. Oh, and it's written by a guy in the band The Mr. T Experience.

Yeah, I've heard of that book. It's gotten good reviews. I will pursue it now.

Vortex, you can cry on me anytime you like. Shit, you're making me miss your Dad and I never even met him.

eta: Ditto for Daisy.

I know when Alex died I thought I would strangle the next person who told me he was in a better place, because uhm no, the better place would be alive with us and going on his first date, having a beer with his dad, jeez even getting to start his first year of high school.

I've gotten very very little of this, thankfully, because it's not something I can really be polite about.

I remember being out one night and talking to someone, and the subject of both my mom and a friend of hers who died suddenly about a year later came up, and this girl (who knows me and my sibs as well as the kids of the other woman) starts going on about which of us had it worse and I swear I nearly fucking hit her for being so goddamned stupid.

I think any death of a close loved one is always with you

Yes. It does get easier with time, but the loss is always there. It's been 23 years since we lost my dad. An elderly co-worker gave me a jigsaw puzzle of jellybeans and told me that by the time I finished it the worst part would be over. It was a distraction, and he was right. Now the completed puzzle is another reminder, but at this point references to Dad always bring a smile. Teary part did eventually pass.