at the grave

She cries at the grave of the friend of a friend. (But her brother isn't much of a friend.) And I cry because she cries.

Mother aren't supposed to cry.
Why are you crying?

Pain.
Her pain, her brother's pain, the family's pain--it all just blends together. There's only one pain.

Our pain.

I embrace her. (What else can I do?)

She cries even harder. I try to comfort her. (I don't know what to say!) I can't speak, for fear it'll come out.

That sob. The one I've been holding in all this time.

At the grave, we cry.
We all cry, because we all hurt.

This is our pain. It's all our pain. Because we all feel the same.

"I never knew you."

But I'll cry for you.
Because you wouldn't cry for yourself.
(Because you couldn't cry for yourself.)

> Confrontation

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Oct 12th 2009

Tags:: cry death grave mother uncle you and beautiful world
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Something I wrote after a really intense moment with my mom, after a phone conversation with her brother. (My uncle, obviously.)

This is what I imagine will happen eventually. (I would like to go to the funerals. That person sems to have been very important to my uncle, and so I want to be there for him.)

And, as a sidenote, I'd like to quote a reply I gave my mom via facebook:
"Why should life suck because someone died? People die and suffere very day, though not every day sucks. Should it be special because someone we know is in pain?"