The eupohoric hangover has warn off and now I find myself just sad and overwhelmed.
I've been put in charge of the music for the reception(s) as well as for the memorial service. Last night I stayed up until 2:00 AM listening to Alex's entire CD collection.
I had no idea he liked techno so much. And I felt bad that I had not saved him from becoming exposed to Linkin Park. But I was relieved to find that he had many Beatles CDs, some excellent mix CDs (My Hits Disk #1-#7), and a pretty good collection of SNL and The Simpsons soundbites.
God I really fucking miss him.
Being back home has been truly comforting. I'm sleeping in his old room at my Pops house. It had been redone a numer of years ago with a nautical theme, but there's still a sense of Alex in there. I keep trying to find signs that he's around me... like I want to be able to have some kind of tangible sense that he's here. And I think I'm setting myself up for disappointment, because I don't think Alex would let me know that he's here by making the ice maker run at different times. That's not Alex, that's Maytag.
But I do know that he loves me. And I know he knows that I love him.
It's hard being around all of these pictures of him. It's hard smelling smlls that remind me of him and home.
I find that I'm flexing back and forth from sadness, to nostalgia, to frustration.
Probably am drinking a bit too much as well and I think that this was a bad time to choose to quit smoking.
But overall, I'm just sad. I mean, not all the time... I'm having good moments of hanging with my Old School Gang and getting to bond a bit more with my step-sister. So there are breaks from the gloomy gloom times.
Tonight is the viewing.
I don't know how that's going to go. I know I can handle it, but I'm pretty nervous about the idea of having to see his body and know it's the last time I can physically touch him.
Lately I've been craving having a hug from him. And it hurts to know that that's not going to be possible.
So. This is what mourning and grief is all about. Ups and downs, my peeps. Mother fucking ups and mother fucking downs.
Tomorrow is the memorial. I'm the one that gets to give the last eulogy. I'm feeling tremedous pressure to get it right because I don't want to disappoing myself and I don't want to disappoing Alex.
This was a bad week to stop smoking.