This really seriously excellent writeup of why the office is depressing hits a bit too close to home.
the funeral for father magnetti was warm. a reflection of the long life he'd lived and how much the quadruple doctorate who spoke 6 languages had accomplished.
the funeral for sarah, my best friend from age 5 until high school, who died suddenly of a brain aneurysm, was sad. but when it comes to freak blood clots, you have a reason. and it's scientific. and there was nothing you could do to help it.
the funeral for dave, my friend from law school who committed suicide as we studied for the bar, ended up being a somewhat uplifting occasion. his father insisting that dave was finally out of the darkness, that the pain of his depression was finally lifted. that he was free.
the funeral for jami was miserable. continual sobbing gasps from varied places in the audience, a constant reminder that another human chose to take her life. and that he took it violently and that she was scared and felt pain as she was beaten and stabbed. she'd recently moved after a stint at home which followed the sudden and unexplained departure of her husband (cheating a likely culprit). all the "what ifs?" that you can't help but ask yourself even though you know, that asking such questions doesn't make anything better and, in fact, probably makes them worse. you can't even turn on the television without having to see bi-hourly glimpses of her killer. i think of how many other girls get murdered but who's to notice when they're not white?
she was sunshine and life is cruel and unfair. detectives have been interviewing friends. it was totally surreal; i sat there listening to bryan give the police information that will probably help convict the person who killed his best friend. killed. an episode of SVU came on about rapes/murders and we gave it two seconds before the unease in our stomachs suggested this shit is officially hitting too close to home.
kenya. pictures. hopefully this weekend.