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Aug. 15th, 2007 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
terrypurple73I think that after a funeral, people often say things like, "What a moving service" or "that was beautiful" or something along those lines. The don't often say, "Why didn't they play any Manu Chau? Or at least 'Crocodile Rock?' No one said anything in Spanish! I mean, it was still good, but really...."
The thing is that I'm not sure the funeral yesterday helped me find closure. I don't think that Peter Jessup actually died. As far as I can tell, he's still leading rafting trips down the Colorado River, because where else would he be? He certainly couldn't have been buried yesterday, even though I went to the cemetery. There is no way that this amazing roommate of mine isn't living anymore. I know it's true, and the biggest comfort is that he died hiking in the mountains, doing what he loved. But it still doesn't feel real.
Peter is the first person who ever called me Teresita. Even when people I don't care for too much call me that, it has always made me smile, because it makes me think of Peter. I always called him Petey, though I don't remember how that started. And even though I only saw him a handful of times in the three years I've lived out here in CO, it's always felt like a renewed connection, just being within a few hours of him. I remember when all those SOP kids graduated the year before I did, and how much I cried, because I had no idea when I'd ever see them again. I remember thinking, "How do you say goodbye to people you love, knowing that they're moving to South America or elsewhere far away, and I may never see them again?" Redeveloping a friendship with Eric out here, and then living with him for a few months, showed me that years might pass, but I could see these friends again, and it could still be wonderful. Whenever Petey would come by, it felt the same- still wonderful to see him, with those eyes that grinned and that gentleness that took me seriously when I needed it. Watching him and Eric together was sort of like when Neal and Jeff get back together- two people who just fit so well together, who love each other so much. At the luncheon yesterday afternoon, a little group of us sat around and told Peter stories, laughing at the love he had for life and the fear that he didn't have. I think Peter just knew what was worth it in life.
I spent the weekend pretending that being productive by calling people was the same thing as grieving. The balance between the two has gotten better in the past couple days. It's just not what any of us should be facing, this loss of someone who was so damn great.
The thing is that I'm not sure the funeral yesterday helped me find closure. I don't think that Peter Jessup actually died. As far as I can tell, he's still leading rafting trips down the Colorado River, because where else would he be? He certainly couldn't have been buried yesterday, even though I went to the cemetery. There is no way that this amazing roommate of mine isn't living anymore. I know it's true, and the biggest comfort is that he died hiking in the mountains, doing what he loved. But it still doesn't feel real.
Peter is the first person who ever called me Teresita. Even when people I don't care for too much call me that, it has always made me smile, because it makes me think of Peter. I always called him Petey, though I don't remember how that started. And even though I only saw him a handful of times in the three years I've lived out here in CO, it's always felt like a renewed connection, just being within a few hours of him. I remember when all those SOP kids graduated the year before I did, and how much I cried, because I had no idea when I'd ever see them again. I remember thinking, "How do you say goodbye to people you love, knowing that they're moving to South America or elsewhere far away, and I may never see them again?" Redeveloping a friendship with Eric out here, and then living with him for a few months, showed me that years might pass, but I could see these friends again, and it could still be wonderful. Whenever Petey would come by, it felt the same- still wonderful to see him, with those eyes that grinned and that gentleness that took me seriously when I needed it. Watching him and Eric together was sort of like when Neal and Jeff get back together- two people who just fit so well together, who love each other so much. At the luncheon yesterday afternoon, a little group of us sat around and told Peter stories, laughing at the love he had for life and the fear that he didn't have. I think Peter just knew what was worth it in life.
I spent the weekend pretending that being productive by calling people was the same thing as grieving. The balance between the two has gotten better in the past couple days. It's just not what any of us should be facing, this loss of someone who was so damn great.
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Date: 2007-08-15 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-15 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-16 01:47 am (UTC)I can only imagine that he is now adventuring the wilds of heaven and having a great time.
Why didn't anyone say something in Spanish? Wasn't helping people through interpretation a large part of his life?
Sorry I can't be there... but here's a digital hug from Hawaii.
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Date: 2007-08-16 03:44 am (UTC)Though I honestly cannot remember ever going to mass with Peter, it felt like he was in Boston at St. Cecilia's tonight. No matter how sad it is that he is gone, it's been a blast remembering him and playing memories through my mind.
This whole situation makes me even more grateful for the time I had at SOP and the people we shared our lives with. I love you T! and I'm also sending you a big cyber-hug!
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Date: 2007-08-16 05:09 am (UTC)I've decided that all the people in the world that I know and love should have to live in the same city. This distance thing sucks.