My Best Friend's [Funeral]

I had a funeral last night. I was the only one in attendance. It took place in my bed. The only inspirational music was the rain falling on the mountains outside the window of my loft, and the only casket left open for viewing was a picture in my mind. I didn't wear black. My boxers were blue and white, I believe. Non-traditional, sure. But meaningful.

The deceased was my best friend. The time of death was roughly three or four months ago. I didn't find out until now. Mostly because the death was controversial. It was a motorcycle wreck. Or perhaps it was murder. Actually, I think it was a first-degree, premeditated homicidal motorcycle accident. In any event, it was a strange death.

You see, the body is still (mostly) here, roaming the earth, looking a little lost. All physical signs point to a physical life. But the soul inside this body isn't the best friend I adopted as one of my loved ones - it's someone totally different. Last night was the first time I really accepted that. Both the weight of reality and fictional pallbearers ensued not long thereafter.

Even though I didn't know about the death until last night, I think I knew subconsciously - in the very back of my mind. I could tell something was wrong. My adjustment to life here in the dirty south has been (at best) difficult. It's difficult enough for me living alone with no one to come home to everyday or at least look forward to seeing sometime that week (as I was used to). It's difficult even moreso because of the culture change (see StuffSouthernPeopleLike.com) that goes beyond fashion and attitudes toward an exclusive cliqueish-ness (must've forgotten to pick up my Hick-Rewards Card). But bothering me more than any of this "new" was the fact that the "old" had not yet gone away. I missed (and still do miss) my best friends. But the "missing" feeling I had for my Best Friend was far worse. It was a complete hole, a ulcer in my heart that just kept getting larger and larger -the acid eating away at my soul. I would have pictures in my head, memories; I would relive experiences; I would have conversations (of the way things would/should be) with my lamp. [I know, I'm the psychotherapist - so I should be sane, right?] I was miserable. And all the while, I was missing my best friend because my best friend was all the way back home. Ten hours away. The ulcer ate away faster.

But then, when I would have the (occasional) conversation with my best friend... things had changed. Immaturity. Selfishness. Self-centeredness. Irresponsibility. Judgmental and pompas attidude. Perhaps these were things that were present all the time and I just chose to ignore them. Regardless, now they were front-and-center, plaguing my perfect picture of my best friend whose faults only (previously)contributed to the appeal. But what I couldn't get over, now, was that all the good I had seen in my best friend - the kind words, the moments where I would say "wow you're so grown up!", the spontaneity - they were all gone. It just wasn't my best friend anymore.

So last night, I finally accepted that things had drastically changed. I was angry, more than anything. Angry that my best friend had been killed in a motorcycle wreck three or four months ago and no one had told me. I wasn't just mourning because it was unexpected. I was mourning because I never had a chance to mourn. I was just, suddenly, faced with reality.

The amazing thing is, I think this new realization of my Best Friend's death is a positive thing. The body of my best friend spent so much time occupying that position that it couldn't be filled with anyone new. Now that position is up for grabs, and I feel like I can finally open myself up.

I think I'll still talk to the body, occasionally. We have... well, had... a mutual friend in common, I suppose, in my best friend. I don't have anything against the Body, per se. Just another one of the survivors of my Best Friend's departure. But it won't be the same. Memories will no longer be associated with the body. There will no longer be any hope of "what could be" in the future. There won't be any plans to go see my Best Friend when I visit home. Things will certainly change, for the better, now that I know the truth of my best friend's untimely departure. It will be like visiting the gravesite. Occasionally, I'll place flowers. Or maybe a tub of Kraft Easy Mac. Or candycanes. All fitting tributes.

My best friend's dead. But it was a lovely service.