Note: this post is really long.

Time for a real update on what has been happening over the course of the past week or so. I was home from Thursday afternoon to Sunday night. Despite my great-grandpa’s passing, I still went out to enjoy the fireworks. It was drizzling a bit, but overall the fireworks were fun. We sat inside a causeway in one of the E buildings (I forget which exactly), and heard the concert over the radio. An older woman kept proudly telling us all that “she was from Hawaii, and she wanted to be sure to enjoy her fireworks,” which resulted in her excitement when I found a radio stream on my computer to play for her, and her agitation when a few people were loud playing cards. While the woman was pretty adorable, it got annoying after awhile. As we were waiting for the fireworks to begin, I started playing Chrono Trigger again. I suck at save states, so I wound up playing the fair over about 5 times, but that’s okay. Over the weekend, I played another few hours of the game, but haven’t played since then.

I went into lab briefly on Thursday morning, and took the regional Amtrak service back to Stamford, where my dad picked me up. Played Chrono Trigger and read The Subtle Knife at home the rest of the evening, because we had a long day on Friday. My dad and I woke up around 9am and got bagels. mmm New York bagels. We skipped lunch, picked my grandmother and grandfather up from the airport. My grandpa had an infection on his leg from surgery earlier in the month, but despite the hype he was able to walk fine with his cane. Other than his leg, he looked great.

The rest of the evening was pretty agonizing. Wakes in particular are really difficult because you are forced both to confront the fact that someone has died (it was an open casket) and engage in extremely irritating small talk with people you see maybe once every few years. All the kids get pissed off because their parents keep introducing them to people that they don’t remember, but have probably already met at some other family function. People ask, “How’s the job going?” or “MIT, huh, how do you like it up there?” and it just gets really frustrating. During a time such as this, I’d rather not be talking about myself. Personally, I like it much better to just sit down on the bench and reflect on the situation.

Another thing that I found frustrating about the whole experience is the fact that people are overeager about comforting you. It’s as if there needs to be a quick fix for something that clearly lacks one. There is absolutely nothing anyone else can say to you to instantly make everything feel okay again. Why bother trying? It’s great that one would like to show his compassion by giving the other person a hug or a rub on the back, but I dislike it when people try to console me by saying “He lived a great life, he’s in a better place now.” I’m not five; I know this fact. At the same time, I sincerely feel like the wake and funeral are a time not only to celebrate the life of an individual who has passed, but also give you that window of time during which it’s completely okay to mourn. You’ve already taken the time out of your work schedule to make it for the services, so why not use this time to really get out any of the emotion that you try to keep inside? That’s exactly what I want to do when I go to a wake. I want to feel that pain, and people trying to make me feel better by telling me “he’s in a better place now” seems to miss the point.

Anyway, Friday night I hung around with my cousins from Pennsylvania, and watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas after everyone had gone to bed, which was very enjoyable, although I think some of that was offset by how hyped up the movie had been. Saturday was the Funeral; I had not been to mass in several months, so it was kind of weird to be back. It was also difficult for me to deal with being at church at a time when I was feeling particularly bitter toward the church. I tried to put these things behind me for the service. My great-grandfather’s name had been put on his headstone years ago, which was kind of weird, and all that was not there was the date. After the funeral, we went out to lunch at my great-grandpa’s country club together as a big family before it was time to move on with our individual lives. Things seemed to look up from there; although this was one of the first days in quite some time that the sunshine didn’t manage to cheer me up, I began to feel a degree of closure about things.

I met up with my very close friend Paul on Saturday evening, after watching Harold and Kumar go to White Castle to cheer myself up. We chatted for a while and Paul got some dinner. I drank a large Powerade because Paul didn’t want his drink; DON’T EVER DO THIS. I’m serious; I peed 5 times in 4 hours because of it. We hung around for a bit, then met up with a few of my other friends at home, climbed and rested in a tree for a bit. We stopped by a deli sometime after midnight, and hung out at my friend Emma’s house for a bit. I was totally exhausted though, and retired at the early hour of 2:30am.

I slept late Sunday, which worried my parents but I was just tired. We left for Stamford around 4:30pm, and when we arrived, the train didn’t show up on the TV, so we freaked out. Eventually, it appeared, and said “ON TIME.” My parents get ready to leave to meet my grandma for dinner, but then hear that my train is now “90 MINUTES LATE.” Great. I buy a puzzle book for $3 and settle in. Mom and Dad leave after about 30 minutes, but I’m stuck at the station until 8:35, when the train should have come at 5:48. Also great. Eventually, I arrive in South Station at midnight, and everything is closed. Fortunately I had the foresight to ask Capen to pick me up, so we drove off, got lost in Boston, and then finally I made it back home at 12:40am, nestled into bed with my book, and went to bed.