Death Becomes Her

Apparently 2008 is the year that death becomes me.  I know this sounds a little morbid but I’m not entirely sure where this is gonna go so bear with me.  In January of this year I lost my uncle to cancer.  This was the first death I’ve ever experienced from someone close to me.  It was honestly really traumatic.  There is just something that is so raw about the whole death thing.  Raw is the best word I have to describe it.  My mother’s side of my family isn’t exactly the most emotionally held together kind of group of people.  So everything was so dramatic and traumatic and well rough.  

And then this Sunday my first grandparent passed away.  This really sucks.  I mean it really, really, really sucks.  It is really awesome for him because he had been suffering physically for about 5 years and I am happy that he is now with the Lord laughing his big wonderful resounding laugh now.  There is so much delight and comfort in that.  He is finally free from this mortal body that held him back for so long.  

But tonight as I sat in the same funeral home as I did 10 months earlier, I fought back tears because I didn’t want to feel.  I didn’t want the tears to come for fear that i couldn’t stop them.  The thing that sucks and makes me want to cry more than anything though is the injustice of the situation.  You see, the last true memory I have of my grandfather is his back.  I saw him walking away from me, at that time a child of 6 or so, after he dropped me off at my mother’s house because he was tired of seeing me hurt from the custody battle that my parents were in.  This is going to sound sooooo cliche.  But I blame my mother.  It is because of her selfishness and psychosis that I lost my childhood, teenage life and young adult life away from my father’s side of the family.  Because of this I had so many less years with my grandfather.  When I finally re-established the relationship-because I actually could when I got older- it was too late.  Strokes had already hit him.  Relationships had already been formed amongst family members and I felt…and feel…like an outsider.  So though I may have been able to talk to my grandfather the last few years of his life, I missed the majority of it because of my mother’s selfishness and psychosis.  This angered me so much but there is absolutely nothing that can be done.  My father has vowed never to forgive my mother for the things that she took away from me and him and his side of the family.  This feeling is so confusing.  Because you see I don’t want to hold a grudge against my mother.  That is just the worst thing to do but right now the pain is so in my face and real -staring at me and poking me in eye- that I can’t just ignore it.  I’m holding on to try and get past the funeral and burial because I don’t want it to begin.  You see, I’m not just dealing with mourning-I’m dealing with regret.  And regret for something I didn’t cause but was pushed on me due to someone else’s actions.  There is no feeling like one where you had absolutely no control over choices that were made but changed your life forever.  

I don’t want to feel the raw feeling of death.  Because if I let myself feel that then I am going to have to feel the full onset of regret.  If I do that I fear that I will become so angry with my mother, like I haven’t been in years, that I’ll say things I don’t mean and end up losing another relationship.  At this point, I honestly feel the only place I truly belong is with Marc.  I feel like an outsider amongst my dad’s side of the family; I feel like an outcast amongst my mother’s side of the family; and just misunderstood just about everywhere else.  the only place I feel I can really belong is with Marc.  That is a good thing…I know.  The way I look at it is “This gives me the opportunity to begin a new legacy.”  I just always wonder…”What if things had been different?”