Think of Something Profound and Pretend I Said It

I've been sitting here for half an hour trying to figure out where to start.

So far, I still haven't come up with anything brilliant.

There are two things going on this weekend -- one of them is more or less the best thing that ever could've happened right now, the other is . . . not.

Obviously, I'm not going to tell you anything about the first thing except that it's still sort of up in the air and I really hope it does happen and that's why I'm not going to tell you anything else about it. (Wow, that was possibly the most redundant thing I've ever said. You know, because I've never said anything else that was so redundant before saying that thing. Sorry.)

The second thing is a funeral.

We didn't know each other well at all, but she's been more of a mom to me than my actual mom since early 2010. Comedy was the reason we met, and she never thought I'd have even the slightest bit of trouble taking it as far as I wanted to. She told me on more than one occasion that I was her favorite comic and she couldn't wait to watch me on TV someday. That wasn't a sure thing, obviously -- did I ever really want to pursue comedy as a way to make a living?* -- but now she never will.

It was cancer, if you're wondering. She had been battling it for months. She lost.

I can't believe she's dead. Logically, of course, that's total bullshit -- she had been battling cancer for months; if anything, I should be saying I can't believe she lasted as long as she did -- but logic can blow me. I always figured it was a given that she would kick its ass in the end. Her body was failing, but her spirit was unbreakable. You know?

I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the funeral (even though I'm going with a friend who was even closer to her than me). I've always hated them, and this one packs more of a punch than any I've been to since Dad's.** That being said, I feel like I'm going to make it through okay. Well, okay-ish. I'm still doing an exemplary job of taking care of myself emotionally, and I have plenty of distractions to take my mind off of it.

So, yeah. It sucks, and I really wish it hadn't happened, but I'll make it through.

Just in case, though, I'm going to have just a bit of alcohol.







As usual, I'm reminded of a Buffy quote. For a bit of a change, this one's from Anya, and it's not funny at all:

"But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's . . . there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch . . . ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why."






*Still not sure about that one, but I have been itching to get onstage again sometime soon. We'll see if that happens. No, actually, not IF. When.


**Both of my mom's parents died when I was in high school, but they had pretty much been on their way since before I started kindergarten.