Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.

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Building 11 "Funeral for a Friend"

It was Tracy's funeral today, and I have been unable to leave my bed ever since I got home. My dad has tried to bring me food, and I have nibbled on the corners of the bread, but I cannot eat, only sip on water. She wasn't supposed to die like this, as silly as that may sound coming from me. My mom died in a senseless way, and yet that doesn't feel the same. She just got sick, Tracy I mean.

And now she is dead, and I will never get to talk to her again.

I wish that I could provide something bright to light the world around me, to fight against the gloom but I just can't, not without hating myself. I feel like I deserve to feel like this, and I know deep down that it is probably the wrong reaction, or maybe there is no wrong reaction to all of this. All I know is I can't get over the fact I didn't call her, no matter the excuse, and that I wasn't able to see her when I had to say goodbye.

Her mom wouldn't let me come to the wake, and it was only at the funeral that I was finally able to say goodbye, as limp as it was. She was already in the ground before I was able to get to the graveyard. Traffic seemed to be conspiring against me, which is strange since I am less that ten minutes from the graveyard. But maybe it was fate, or the universe offering a hand to keep me from getting there on time, because if I did I am sure I would have torn her mother apart.

I just...I miss her so much right now, and I know that there is nothing I can do about that. I am going to miss Tracy, and I am going to be sour and angry at her mom for as long as I live. I don't want to live with that sort of anger, but I can't bring myself to pick up the phone and call her. Maybe part of it is I don't want to upset her family any more than they already are, but I think it is mostly because if I did, I don't think I could speak.

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