From lastyearsgirl:
I think it was the first time I'd gone to the funeral of somebody too young to die.
When you grow up Catholic, if you're lucky enough, you start to expect death to always play out the same way. You'll say the same prayers and you'll sing the same hymns. The coffin sits the same way, covered in flowers and envelopes containing Mass cards. The inhabitant is always old. And it's sad, of course, but you understand that after a certain amount of time you go to God, and that's a natural progression.
Ross changed that for me. Not just because we were teenagers, and these things aren't supposed to happen to teenagers. Not just because his heart stopped, and I hadn't seen him in a year and I was sitting there all in black, skinny and shivering and frightened. The thing that struck me most was the way the curtains closed so softly that I almost missed it, and I realised what it was they were doing. It seemed so final, in the way that a Catholic burial never really did.
I didn't want to listen to music after that.
The festival was that weekend, and I scuffed my heels around the field wanting desperately to be somewhere, anywhere else. Somewhere quiet, where I could miss him in peace. Until Feeder saved me with a triumphant chorus dedicated with love to their drummer who had hung himself, and a defiant reminder that the way we keep on living is the greatest tribute.
I think it was the first time I'd gone to the funeral of somebody too young to die.
When you grow up Catholic, if you're lucky enough, you start to expect death to always play out the same way. You'll say the same prayers and you'll sing the same hymns. The coffin sits the same way, covered in flowers and envelopes containing Mass cards. The inhabitant is always old. And it's sad, of course, but you understand that after a certain amount of time you go to God, and that's a natural progression.
Ross changed that for me. Not just because we were teenagers, and these things aren't supposed to happen to teenagers. Not just because his heart stopped, and I hadn't seen him in a year and I was sitting there all in black, skinny and shivering and frightened. The thing that struck me most was the way the curtains closed so softly that I almost missed it, and I realised what it was they were doing. It seemed so final, in the way that a Catholic burial never really did.
I didn't want to listen to music after that.
The festival was that weekend, and I scuffed my heels around the field wanting desperately to be somewhere, anywhere else. Somewhere quiet, where I could miss him in peace. Until Feeder saved me with a triumphant chorus dedicated with love to their drummer who had hung himself, and a defiant reminder that the way we keep on living is the greatest tribute.
: Feeder - Just The Way I'm Feeling
Blog: http://lastyearsgirl.pixlet.net/
Photography: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lastyearsgirl
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