Last night was the viewing. When we got to the funeral home, we saw the condition of the body, and his face was so swollen and old-man looking from all the swelling his brain had taken... his mother started crying so hard, so they decided we needed to close the casket.
I almost had to leave when I saw him like that. I was having a very difficult time, but Alan had me, and my mom found me and walked outside with us and recounted the story of the accident, how the only part of Michael that sustained any injuries was his head. Both sides of his skull were fractured-- the car rolled 2 times, and every time it rolls, the car compacts, and it was compacting tighter around his head because he was so tall. His brain stem had disconnected from his spine, so if they had been able to keep him alive, he would have been vegetable. Natalie made the decision to turn off the life support, and she finds comfort in the thought that he is still with her, watching over her.
My great aunt Nola came over and told the story, since she had been in the room as Michael died-- she told how when the red light came on, that she could feel his spirit so strongly all around Natalie (like a hug, I like to think) and Nola could also feel the presence of our grandma and grandpa hart (the grandpa who just passed 3 weeks ago). Now, I don't believe the whole "when someone dies the veil gets thin and there is a party with all the spirits who have passed and they welcome the new one home" bullshit. But it is comforting to think that Michael's essence was attempting to hug Natalie, to comfort her and say goodbye.
So those stories made me feel better, we went back into the building and stood by the entrance, greeting people as they came in and directing traffic. I was feeling okay, Alan was right there to make sure I was ok, and then we decided maybe to leave, so we went into the room with the casket and Natalie... and I saw how overwhelmed she was with the number of people.
So I decided to stand there with her for a while. Michael's sister Kelsy was standing with her, and I came over and stood on her other side, Alan right next to me. That's what helped me the most, being able to be right there for her, and being able to be there for the other people who knew and loved and missed and grieved for Michael.
The hardest part was not being so close to the departed. The hardest part was hearing my sister's sobs, as though her heart was breaking, every time someone very close to her and Michael came through the line. I wish I could take all that pain away from her. She is so strong right now, and people keep telling her that, but she doesn't feel strong. She did such a good job. I'm glad I could be there for her, and for the others, to share some of the burden of the grief with them.
Alan and I left when it ended, and we went and found a wonderful sushi place to drown our sorrows with. I am having trouble sleeping right now because I'm so sad. I'm so lucky that my love is still alive. My parents see the way he is with me and feel so grateful and blessed that I have someone like him in my life.
Natalie found the man of her dreams, too, and now he's gone. And you just don't get a second chance with things like that-- they don't make them very often, and the odds just aren't in her favor. And now is not the time for another love, anyway... poor thing. She is speaking at the funeral tomorrow (this morning). I suppose I should go lie down and try to relax a bit.
Thank you for listening, internet.
