Friday, July 01, 2005

No more funerals this year, please.

I hate the cocksuckers. I doubt that makes me in anyway remarkable. I'd be surprised if there were anyone out there who couldn't get enough of the fuckers, but that was a tough one today. Over five hundred people turned up at the church this morning, and out of a town of five thousand, that's a pretty good showing.

Personally, I didn't really know what I was doing there. I knew Emma well enough to stop on the street and pass the time of day with, but we weren't friends. Still, sometimes shit happens that, for no reason you can interpret or even express, fucks with your head. All you can do is gather with as many other people who feel the same way and channel it and hope that can help you work it out. As it happened I realised what I was doing there as soon as the reverend started with the sermon. He laid it out pretty quickly; he knew what we were all doing there. Yes, we'd gone to say goodbye, to support one another, et cetera; but also we'd gone to church to gang up on God for doing this to us. Even those of us who don't believe, we nevertheless wanted to know why. That's right: I, for one, went there looking for answers from a God I don't believe exists. What was I expecting?

I went along in grief, and confusion, and anger looking for some kind of answers and what did I get?

All I learnt today, staring at a coffin containing nothing but the inanimate flesh of an eighteen year old girl, was that I wish I had known her better. And if it happened tomorrow that I suddenly needed to make some account of my life I'd only be able to admit to the missed opportunities rather than the seized ones.

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