The funeral is tomorrow. It'll be the first funeral I've been to since my grandmother died when I was 17 (back in 1990). It'll be hard to go, but I'm determined to be there. Work has organised a bus to transport all of us. I think it'll be very sad to see her family there - her mother, especially, who travelled from too far away and missed her daughter by 2 days.
I didn't think I really wanted to talk about it in therapy, but I brought it up and found I couldn't stop talking about her.
V asked me if her death affected my thinking on my own life. I think it does. On the one hand, I think about how fragile life can be - how something like this can strike someone, anyone, so unexpectedly, how someone can be here one moment and then the next they're gone. It makes me want to live my life better - to have my priorities right. But on the other hand, I also think - how unfair it is that something like this happens to someone like EH, and how, the world would be so much better off if she lived and I died instead. See, she WANTED to live. Suicide was never something she ever considered. Even when I saw how ill she was, she seemed determined to beat the odds. When given such a poor prognosis, she didn't just turn inwards and ask to be let go as peacefully as possible. So to me, she deserved to live more than me. She would have wanted to, more than me.
I don't know. My head's not in the right place, I think. The last week has been rough. I hope I can comfort her family tomorrow, even just a little bit.