So. Fucking. Tired.

We went home for the funeral today, which was so so so sad… standing room only, literally, and people from allw alks of life mourning my cousin. So many grown men in Carhartt and work boots, crying their eyes out, and my youngest cousin is still waaaaay in denial, spending much of her time twisted around in the pew smiling at her friends (who sat in the family section, and got all eye-rolly when I asked them to slide down so that Dave and I could sit. Sigh.) Lots of people were happy to see Ingrid, but so much sadness… my parents, especially, in looking at the photos of his life, so many were taken at my house, at the mountain, or with my folks or BY my folks — they were really a huge part of his life. I feel quite peripheral to that relationship, for a lot of reasons, but seeing it all laid out in photos like that made me so sad for my mom and dad. For family here, he had his kids, and he had my parents. I was just telling dave that I’d spent a NYE with all of them at the mountain a few years back, where they got horribly sick, and I was going insane trying to sleep between the sounds of EC puking and my parents snoring. (I wrote about it on the old journal, even…)

The kids are… kids. EC is surrounded by his friends, at the house, all skaters and hipper than thou and such, but good kids in general, and Ashley is just up to her eyeballs in denial, her mom took her and some friends to the camp for a new years eve party. MMmmm, party. And EC’s friends dressed pretty appropriately, while Ashley’s were in Wheelies, which just really bugged me for some reason. I don’t know, kids need their friends, but the roller skates could have stayed home, you know? There was the usual array of funeral food, which I am convinced exists solely to make sure you don’t sully a favorite food with a sad memory, because WHERE ELSE do you see cream cheese crustless sandwiches, or ground spam? Seriously. At a funeral, the only identifiable sandwich is egg salad, and I always aim for that.

We went back to the house, which was just family, but sad in a different way — the way the place was plasted with pics of his kids, the birthday cards from the kids still on the fridge, christmas cards on the mantel and whatever. So, so, soooo fucking sad. And the legal stuff hasn’t even been scratched yet, because all the lawyers and such are on vacation — so the custody issue is the elephant in the room; with Ashley assuming she’s moving to KC with her mom, and EC a little more aware, and wanting to move in with his friend, but understanding that that’s just not what’s going to happen. That’s still  a great big Undecided.

We left the house at 7, and came home, and we’re both beat. Dave had Ingrid in the basement for almost all of the service, while I sat upstairs as part of the family, and man, I crieeeed. So. Fucked. Up.  We had just 30 guests at our wedding, he and the kids were three of those guests, and when I look at our guestbook-photomat, there are a few names on there that I’d have expected to go before Colson. Christ, my MIL, for one, since, as dave has said, at least once a year he steels himself for it to be The Final Illness, and he’s been doing that since heart attack #1, when he was in SECOND GRADE. Not… COLSON.

Long day. I’m way, way, ready for 2007.