This blog was originally posted on MySpace.
Omigod omigod omigod… today was the funeral. So I wake up this morning refreshed (and a bit hungover) but none the less I was ready. I worked myself up to it overnight. I was going to be an amazing, strong wife and family member. My husband informed me that he wanted to ride along with his brother in law, the police officer I told you about yesterday, for all of the processional stuff. So I realized that not only was I not going to see him for most of the ceremony because he was a pallbearer but not during any of the driving bits either. So basically, I was going to drive to the funeral home with him at 8 in the morning and then would pretty much not talk to him again until about noon at the wake. Weird. But ok. So I got to the funeral home for the last showing before the funeral. I was doing good. Proud of myself. Strange because I realized that I was completely numb but proud anyway because I was maintaining composure. So we have our final viewing and the priest (I think that was what he was) makes a speech, everyone gets teary and then they take the casket out to the hearse. I start to lose it. Not bad at first but enough that I need to tell myself to get fricking control. Then we drive to the church where they take the casket into the church. Then we have the funeral. I proceed to lose it again. I mean I lost it. I was heaving. I was crying so hard that I had to stop and pretend I was in an amusement park watching children run and play and among other things, eating cotton candy. Don’t ask, this is just what came to me. Big fluffy pink balls of cotton candy. I was scared that if I didn’t stop crying that I would have an asthma attack and the show would all stop to look at the moron in the pew who forgot her inhaler and was laying on the ground awaiting medical attention. Yes, this is what was going thru my mind. Don’t judge me, I am weird. You already knew this. So anyway… I finally stop crying and the funeral FINALLY ends after just shy of two hours and proceed back to our cars to drive to the cemetery. We took a bit of a detour past Uncle George’s old house per his request and off we were to the cemetery. Then another speech and we leave to head back to the church reception hall for lunch and the “wake”. In all honesty, I can’t for the life of me figure out why they call it that. Who is exactly supposed to awaken? If you know, please let me in on this.
I realized why this is affecting me in the way it is. Don’t get me wrong, I miss Uncle George. I miss him a lot. He was an amazing man. Just ask the 3 zillion people that were there today. All of them have a story. A GOOD story. Some way that Uncle George impacted their life and how they will be forever changed because of him. He was a gift to us all.
Back to my point. The reason I think or rather that I know I am so upset is this. This is like losing Jim all over again. When someone you love dies you bottle up a lot. And it doesn’t hit you until later in life. Unfortunately, it all hit me in the last few days. I lost Jim all over again today. I feel like he just left us yesterday. I feel just as miserable today as I felt on that Wednesday that will be forever burned in my brain. I am not trying to side step how painful it was for everyone, including myself, to lose Uncle George. So please do not misunderstand me. But I just feel FUCKING MISERABLE! Why does it hurt so bad? Any ideas on how I can make it stop?
I do have one idea. Gin. It worked for a few. Not long. But long enough for me to get past the worst of it. Isn’t that terrible? I had to drink myself into literally a stooper today. I was sloshed at 3 in the afternoon. It is almost midnight here and I am still pretty loaded, and I stopped drinking HOURS ago. How pathetic? Kids, don’t try this at home.
Why does alcohol work so well? Why do we use it? Why do I use it? I know I don’t have a drinking problem. I know, I know. Those who say they don’t have a problem actually do have a problem. But when I drink, I very rarely if ever drink to get loaded. I actually usually just drink because I love the taste of alcohol. But strangely enough, whenever I am in Pittsburgh with my husband’s family, that time to get smashed and make an ass out of myself usually comes due. Sad. But true. I apparently am trying to make the biggest ass out of myself that I can and only in front of my husband’s family. Maybe subconsciously I am trying to see if my husband will love me no matter what. Dumb, but it is all I can think of. When I say that to him, he says I just feel comfortable enough with him and his family to know I can have a good time. He always knows what to say to make me feel better. He is good like that. I think I will keep him.
Anyway…. Moving on. Actually it just dawned on me that this blog is really really long and I am sure you are getting rather bored. So I will say goodnight.