I think I'm going to be sad

I think it's today.

Yes, with my Bach on in the background--as a ritual piece of music that is melancholy and mournful without being tragic and emotional--it's definitely today. I think Rogers might appreciate it... I'm worried for him. I went and defended him against what seemed like a truly banal comment on his post. Bloody people. They don't know. I admit, up against Rogers, ITHOM, AD, and the husband I never met, I don't know either. But I felt I knew more than this commenter... maybe not. Oh, now I feel bad...

I've spent the week largely distracted from the coming of today, the funeral. It was always going to be a really stupid week, with extra jobs to do, the usual Wednesday hell, and that when's-the-Easter-vacation feeling, desperate for a break... I got really irritated with my students on Wednesday. They deserved it all: they behave like children, in and out of class, and I told them I wouldn't wipe their arses for them... but it's not like me. Perhaps it should be. Anyway, then it all got worse at work, and now it's all awful. That's too complicated a saga to speak about today, but it's all contributed to a feeling that today might actually not happen in the end. Perhaps we'd just jump to Thursday, with its exhaustion and impending misery, to Saturday, with the sun rising and a feeling that this first hurdle was overcome.

But no, it's definitely today. I wish Olga could be here. She'd know what to do, how to be, how to support our friends. I know nothing. All I know is that as soon as I found out V was dying, all of about 3 hours before she finally went, I wanted to have seen her more recently, to have been able to say goodbye. And I know that because that was not possible, as it so often isn't in these situations, I have to go today to do exactly that. I'll have company in the car--a colleague form another department--but, like Rogers, at least today I feel very much like not seeing anyone, perhaps especially people I don't know. Over 100 people, ITHOM says, maybe 200. It's too many. I'm autistic enough at the happiest of group occasions; this is likely to be awful.

Mustn't forget tissues, Posh reminded me. I'll take some for my colleague too, and maybe Rogers. But I don't want to cry, much less look like I've intended to or expect it of others. It would feel too much of a display, too public. Nonetheless, I'm weak like that, and I will, and I will feel I have no right to. Tongue-biting, apparently, stops it. But now, the practicalities take over... showering, ironing, packing...