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i was in barrie again yesterday. i held people in my arms, comforted them, tried my best to assure them that it was ok.

i've never seen grief so powerful.

this is what it's like when someone young dies. this is what it's like when her kids are there, oblivious to what's going on. this is what it's like to see her mother, having gone through so much SHIT in her life, stand and be strong for the rest of her kids.

i played at a funeral. richard and i performed. i broke yet another guitar pick, added to the two i broke that night. i feel like it must have been a sign. it couldn't have been anything else.

richard said i looked like a nun. my dark grey wool skirt, my button up white shirt, my black cardigan. when i was in 7th grade i took vocational testing. 7th grade! i was 13. the front runner, the job i was best suited for - it was in the clergy. i looked like a nun yesterday as i mumbled "our father" into richard's shoulder, as i heard him mumble it into mine.

"they tell me that my daughter is really in there, but i don't know. i guess i'll just have to take their word for it."

i think i need to do this. i need to go into this line of work. i was in the front row, holding on to richard, someone i've known for only 3 years now. i was his rock. i was his rock since sunday. i was his Sister K. to comfort him in his time of grief.

i did it really well.