And she sang Amazing Grace...with a voice that made me all warm inside....

Buddy’s funeral was yesterday and it was a very suitable service. It was mildly religious, but not a Catholic mass or anything. Only 5 of us from work were there. I thought more would come, but everyone had gone to the wake the night before, so they didn’t want to go to the funeral.

I have issues with dead bodies. I think it’s crude that people put dead bodies on display for people. They never look good, in my opinion. When I was young my cousin committed suicide. I think that was the first time that I ever saw a dead body. I remember my aunt standing with her son over the body. She was playing with her dead daughter’s hair. I remember thinking that she looked like a doll. Her skin didn’t look soft and nice, but like felt almost. I remember saying to my parents that it was the worst day of my life. She was a beautiful girl, buried in her prom dress. It was silver taffeta with black polka dots. I remember when she got it. She died from a prozac overdose. She was 18.

When my grandfather died, there was kind of a screen on the casket over his body. He had died of liver cancer, and was kind of yellow. I decided then that I had had enough of dead bodies. When my aunt passed away, I was so devastated that I didn’t even go to the wake. Then the next day, when it was time for the funeral, I asked my mom if I could see the body, and I found out that my aunt had been cremated. I was even more upset. When I was 18 a friend was killed in a car accident. She had a little Geo and was hit by a tractor-trailer. Somehow, they managed to make her body presentable for the wake. She had on a lot of make up, but she always did, so it wasn’t that bad – But when my friend Beth died in a car accident when I was 19 – 3 days after my first daughter was born – it was obvious that her fingers were broken. She had on very dark make-up and dark lipstick…and she never even wore make up. Her mom said to me – “She looks so peaceful..” I remember thinking – “NO!! She doesn’t! She looks like HELL. It’s not her! It’s a DEAD BODY!..”

I can’t remember what my father looked like in the casket. I vaguely remember him in the hospital bed when I walked in and they told me that he was gone. I remember a room full of people that had all gotten there before me, even though I lived the closest to the hospital. I remember hugging my sister, and looking over at the body, and immediately running out of the room. That was a dead body. That was NOT my father.

Buddy’s mustache was too short. His skin looked rubbery and strange. His skin was an odd color. – And one of the girls that used to work with us, who barely knew him – said “He looks good…” Dammit. It was a DEAD FUCKING BODY, and he looked HORRIBLE.

At least they dressed him in jeans and a polo. If he’d had on a suit I’d have been yelling at people.