a time...

i went to a funeral today of a 19 year old girl. she didn't seem that much younger than me until i saw her small body in a coffin and thought about myself at 19. five years ago. as i sat on the pew in a small episcopal church surrounded by the three people in this town i could even come half-way close to saying know me, i watched as this poor mother was so frail in grief her husband had to physically move her arms and legs to rise or sit for whatever the service was calling her to do. crippled by grief. my heart ached. i selfishly thought of myself and my life, but i have a feeling that's what most people do at funerals. say they're so sorry and get in their cars with people they live for and thank god it wasn't them in the front rows of that church.
i listened as the priest looked me in the eye and spoke of living for today. of not going to sleep with burdens of the past. how you can never be too quick to forgive or tell someone you love them or you're sorry or you're trying to be better. and yeah, it's all cliche. but the thing is, cliches are cliche for a reason and most of the time, they're absolutely true. because everything does happen for a reason and every passing moment is a chance to turn it all around.
it may seem pornographic that i stared at this women in the depths of her despair, but it's because, for whatever reason, her little girl told me all about her mother. and i heard the hurt in her voice when she told me stories of things she pretended not to really care about. i also heard without her saying it, the mistakes that she had made that may have caused things to be so. but i also knew that she was trying. every day. that coming to work made her feel better- like she was doing something in the right direction and learning that some people in her life weren't good enough for her. so, when i saw her parents for the first time today, i saw what guilt, loss, grief does to a person and that if they could've just seen what their daughter was trying to become maybe it would've been a little different, maybe some of that pain wouldn't be so self-inflicted. maybe if they could've just seen that she was trying and just let it be enough for that day.
but because of this little girl in her over-sized coffin and because of that broken mother and because that man looked at me of all people with swollen eyes during his message, i know that the burdens i have carried around don't mean shit. because we're all just trying every single day and it's just too easy to point the finger and pretend we're better, your problem is bigger. and i sent what remained of those potentially guilt-ridden, grief-stricken feelings with caitlin this afternoon.
because i got five more years than she did.
and then, i got in the car and thanked god it wasn't me.