Where the puzzles and pagans lay

I am truly a big fucking fake. Seriously, I act like it's all cool that there is a body in the room, and it belongs to someone who meant so much to many people, and it's not effecting me, and I'm not thinking about it and la-de-da.
But, it's all I'm thinking about, I can't focus on anything else, I want to. I'm talking to people who at one time meant the world to me, and that still echos today, but there's a body and we're all here and she's not, except she is and that totally fucks with me conceptually and I guess literally in that my knees shake, and I ate before I went so I know it's not hunger.
My people have the funeral the next day, regardless of the extremes that one might have to go to in order to be there. There is no laying out, we sit Shiva for 7 days afterward, eating and talking about stuff. In that case there is an elephant in the room, and that, I can work with.