Before the stillness had set in, before I'd had time to think too much about things, my friends were there to keep me busy.
A friend's birthday happy hour turned into too many drinks and staying out too late. Too late and too tired to have any energy left to think about what there was to talk about.
After our talk the next morning, another friend insisted I didn't bail on our plans. We spent the rest of the day seeing Knocked Up and lunching on a patio with bloody marys.
I'd looked forward to that night for months. The event he'd suggested we get tickets to. My sister and husband were to join us. Luckily. Or I'd have suddenly been without any one to go with hours before the show.
The show was amazing. The many vodka drinks beforehand didn't hurt. For the better part of two hours I sang along with Gordon Sumner, between my sister and a great friend who'd agreed to go that afternoon.
My sister and I grew up listening to them. Of course, upon my brothers' insistence. The only way the night could have been better was if my brother had been there with us, instead of on his honeymoon.
Only a bit of lyrics here or a fleeting memory there reminded me of how different things had become in the last day or so.
I guess this is our last goodbye
And you don't care so I won't cry
And I won't. Much. Anymore.