Mourning with benadryl

I'm covered in hives.

I'm not sure why, but I guess it's because of the funeral.

Last week, we got a terrible call at 8:30 in the morning. My husband's best friend, a young man with a young son, a wonderful friend and an amazing story teller, had died.

We are still in shock, a week later. We will continue to be for quite some time. As we will continue to grieve and cry and do all things we do when we lose someone we love, I feel my sweet Mad Scientist struggling. I try to be there but I'm not sure if I'm helping.

This has brought me screaming back, five years ago to my brother's funeral, where I was covered in hives and giving my eulogy, shaking hands and consoling friends and talking with people I didn't know about funny stories that I wasn't there for, the whole while a little voice, selfish and angry, whispering to me how all you want to do is tell everyone to shut up and slink away to sleep for 100 years.

I'm not a wise person and I don't have any answers but I am living proof that life goes on and I have found a way to be. I guess that's the only thing I have to say on this subject in life with certainty.

It's not much. But a little benadryl and a nap might help too.