Hey there, my favourite New Yorker.
How is it all going? Don't spare me: I want the goss: the course, the unavailable Brooklyn babe, any other crushes and conquests, any philosophical moments or shining Springtime revelations, walks, new City discoveries.... Tell me. Your best friend misses you.
A cute thing: Jessie confessed the other day that she has several times caught herself marvelling at how well your flowers have kept, given that they came all the way from New York. ;) Love her.
Frannie's funeral was yesterday. It had been delayed by the grim wait for her autopsy, quarantine clearance, and repatriation. The notion of her perfect, smooth olive body being cut open is a horror that has only been acknowledged between us with wordless widening of the eyes and contractions of the brow. I don't doubt that it has dwelt painfully in everyone's mind as it did in mine. She took almost two weeks to come home.
14.5.10
The funeral was a very big affair. There were some 800 mourners and supporters in attendance, packing the church and its hall as well.
Although Frannie's death was central to the occasion, it remained often an elusive concept, descending on the mind in its fulness only fleetingly, and only a small handful of times. This phenomenon has fascinated me (along with the fact that, in this terrible time, curiosity and fascination have not abandoned me). I have probably talked too often of it to people, partly out of my own amazement, and partly by way of explanation for my ability, still, to function almost normally. It is as if one is permitted a tiny dose of grief each day, which takes hold and plays out according to its moment and one's strength in that moment, and then it is gone completely. Sometimes I even wish to recall it. Sometimes an uncontrollable passion of tears brings such a feeling of release that I seek to dwell in the undiluted knowledge of what has happened for a little longer, but it is as though a door has closed and I simply cannot access that pain by the same means as before. I must wait for a new combination of stimuli: a new formulation of the facts to cut me afresh.
I realise this is how such a thing can be endured, and I try to accept and be patient with the natural, protective rhythm of my brain. Perhaps, by this regime of small cuts and low doses, I will gradually build a tolerance to the pain of what has happened.
So, the funeral was like that. 800 people taking their pain in small doses and at different moments throughout the day. It isn't just a defensive mechanism of the individual, either. It plays out collectively, too. There is never a moment where everyone suffers intolerably at once. There is always a stronger party to hold up the ones who are momentarily stripped of their own resources.
I don't know how anyone could do this alone. I have never in my life been so consciously grateful for the loving strength of our family.
We are taking it in turns to be with Frannie's immediate family. Jessie is staying there tonight, and I am staying tomorrow night. Mum has been down most of the week, only returning this weekend to look after her mum, as she does every weekend.
Nanna Moss has not been told of the death of her granddaughter. It has been an ongoing dilemma, and I feel quite strongly that she should be told... But I think there is sense in the decision not to tell her at this time, when it may destabilize her enough to double the already extreme burden of care for her children to bear.
It is a sad but convenient probability that although Nanna Moss would recall Francesca's name and person immediately were she to walk into the room, the deterioration of her memory is such that she might never notice her absence.
Life in all its richness and complexity is laid bare at this time, and it is, while difficult, so interesting.
In my confidence that your life is going along as richly as it was when we last spoke, I hope with all my heart that you are blessed with a similar clarity and acuteness in your perception of your world right now. It does me good to think of you boldly living out your long-held dream and being surprised by all the details you could never have imagined accurately, and reassured by those you did.
Do write and tell me, when you have some time.
I miss you all the time, but I am so very glad you are in New York, which feels to me also like a treasured friend. I trust you are looking after each other.
I'll write again soon and tell you more about this very absorbing, draining, enriching, sad time.
With my love in a big hug -
Moss xxxxx
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