So I've spent this entire day trying to find a way to just escape from the grief. I took a successful nap, but I just can't nap all day and night. I would wake up around 2 am and not be able to fall back asleep and then I'd be in an even worse conundrum than I already am in.
I tried watching tv, and found myself flipping through the news, and there he was, staring back at me. Poor Moy. On two news channels. I just lay in my bed and bawled my little eyes out. My sweatshirt sleeves are still damp, and it's been a half hour. There were people I knew on TV, talking about Moy, and Matt, and it was just so fucking insane. That's what it is.
It's a fucking tragedy.
I found I couldn't really watch TV after my cry-fest, so after about fifteen minutes of channel-surfing, I turned it off. So here I am sitting at the computer, listening to music and having a major headache.
I can't do anything. I can't sleep. I can't watch TV. There's no one to talk to right now, and anyhow how easy is it to talk to someone who's just had a dear friend and classmate killed in a "war" that shouldn't even be happening? What are you supposed to say besides "I'm sorry"? And I don't want to put anyone through that.
So I want to go home. I know it's a four hour drive and I wouldn't get there until eleven, and besides I'm not going to anyway because I have to talk to my teachers tomorrow and explain to them why I won't be able to turn in my paper or take my test on time next week... And how hard is THAT going to be. I mean, I know it's hard dealing with ONE person who's died overseas, but how can you explain that it's been TWO people now, in less than a month, and it's fucking killing your entire town?? Seriously. I come from a town of 1500. My class had about 50 or so kids in it. Two less now, in A MONTH.
How do you explain that to a professor? And does a professor even have to let you turn in the paper late, or take the test at a different date? No, they don't. And I'll be lucky if they do, but I'm not fucking missing Moy's funeral for a fucking TEST. I wouldn't miss it for anything.
No one knows here. I mean, my closest friends know Moy died, and Matt died. But there are what, 2000 more students walking around this town, seeing me, not knowing a God damn thing. Not knowing one of the biggest things in the lives of 1500 people. When they see Moy on the news, they see just one more dead Marine, and the picture of his buddy who died less than a month before him. It's just a boy, sad as it may be, but they don't know him.
They don't know he was one of the smartest guys in his grade. They don't know that he was shy and sweet, but funny and silly, and drew awesome comics. They don't know his best friends, or his family, or everyone that will be and are affected by his death. They don't know how impossible it is to deal with two deaths so near each other. They don't know what it means. They couldn't possibly know. They don't know what it's like getting that phone call, to hear their mother bawling because yet another classmate was killed because of the war in Iraq. They didn't have to call their best friends, and tell them the news. Hear their best friend SCREAMING.
And the only people that know these things, they're four hours away from me and I've got no one to comfort me. It's just me, myself and I, alone until tomorrow night.
And I'm going to cry here in my room off and on for the next twenty four hours, and other people might hear me, and even see me, and I don't care. Let them hear me. It's a damn tragedy!!!
And yet, it was as though I already knew. It was as though we all already knew. Out of the what, twelve? Marines that died in Iraq in the past few days, we knew that one of them was Moy. Rachel knew as soon as I said "You don't know."
And she was screaming. "What! Don't know WHAT, ANNE! TELL ME! WHAT!!" She knew!! Jessica knew. We all knew. We just didn't want to. Out of twelve Marines, what's the likelihood that one of them would be the second dead Marine from Moose Lake? From Hodunk Minnesota? But I knew.
It's not easy telling people that your classmate and friend has died. It's something no one should do.
And Jesus CHRIST we fucking PROMISED that our next class reunion wouldn't be a fucking funeral! We fucking PROMISED. And yet, in a few days, we'll all gather in a church again, tears down our cheeks, and attend another funeral. Another dead classmate.
Another dead friend.
And please, keep your personal attacks to yourselves. I really don't need to hear that.
~Anne