Freezing my ass off

But that is besides the point. I seem to be undergoing a slight metamorphisis.

My mind seems to volley back and forth between feeling alone because I'm not in a relationship, to not wanting a relationship until I can feel fine not being in a relationship.

However, I do seem to have this confidence about me lately. I'm somewhat single, in my thirties, successful, able to pay bills (even if a bit strapped at the moment). I'm fairly decent looking. Keeping my room clean. Have a nice new car (oh yeah, I got a new car...2007 Toyota Camry LE...love it.)

I was at my mom's the other day. My grandmother gave me a big hug and told me how proud she was of me. Me...the succesful career woman of the family now apparently. I kind of twitty-headed on that one.

Me? Successful? Career-woman? You mean like all those grown up women I see in the movies and on television? Wait...let me think this over.

Nice job? Check.
Good pay? Check.
401K and insurance? Check.
Nice car? Check.
Good hair and manicured nails? Check.
House? (Hmmm, check yet uncheck)
Good friends and fun times? Check.

Anyway, taking stock off my life, I realized that I finally made it. I'm a thirty year old woman, settled in her career, just enjoying life now that I've worked all that time to secure myself a comfortable living. I work. I've taken up guitar. I go out with friends. I'm somewhat settled in my ideals and opinions. And I'm just enjoying all I worked for.

Not sure where else I'm going with this other than to say, "Thank God, ma. I finally made it. I can finally relax."

Looks harder than it is

I was laying in bed the other night, tons of thoughts drifting in and out, and somehow I started to think about death. I was thinking how much easier it is now that she has passed. I wondered why that was and immediately came to the conclusion that it was the dying part that was so difficult. Death, in itself, was the easiest part to get through.

She didn't suffer for long. She was in the hospital for about two months. After the surgery, it was only a couple of days until she passed. It was sitting there, watching her, seeing her fragile and hooked up to tubes and monitors, that was so difficult.

As a christian, I never understood grieving over the death of a loved one. Certainly not wanting them to suffer would be acceptable...but as a christian, isn't death supposed to be a joyous occasion? This is the time we've all been waiting for. Being reunited with loved ones, no suffering, answers to all the big questions.

Her funeral is this Saturday. It'll be an awkward occasion to say the least. All of my in-laws will be there. I feel mixed emotions about it. The funeral is really more for the living than the dead. She's already passed. What lays in the coffin is nothing but a shell.

The selfish part of me doesn't want to go. But the logical part of me knows I have to. I have to show my respect. Give my condolensces. Talk to people I haven't talked to since I left my husband. If anything, it's just a show. Any words, any feelings I have towards my grandmother-in-law could be said or done from anywhere.

This may sound callous. But I'm not an emotional person. Well, except for fear. I do fear going to the funeral. I fear the uncomfortableness of it all. The inability to find the right words to say to people. Knowing that when I go up to the coffin, I'll want to talk to her but most likely won't because I don't want anyone else to be involved in the conversation I have with her.

So what I would probably say on Saturday, but won't, I'll say now:

"Although you were a grandmother-in-law, you will always be my grandmother. I wish we could have spent more time with you. Wish we could have given you the time and care that none of us seemed able to give. Thank you for treating me as part of the family. Thank you for never looking at me as an outsider."

Thank God for friends

When I woke up yesterday, I was an emotional mess. I didn't want to talk to anyone in fear that I would start bawling. So, rather than handle my emotions like an adult, I avoided my roommates except for a few curt words indicating that I was still going to work and get a move on.

I rushed down to my car, started the engine, and then avoided eye contact as both of them walked down. R, the male roomy, plopped down in the car and started asking questions you'd expect him to ask. "Are you okay? Are you sure youw ant to go to work? Talk to me."

I drove up to our work and was fully expecting to drop him off without our usual morning cigarette before heading off to QT. But he gave me that look that said I wasn't the best person to be making my own decisions right now. So, I parked the car, got out, and plopped myself on the bench.

I couldn't look him in the eye, so I bowed my head down avoiding social interaction, but at the same time berating myself for being such a bitch. Then he sat down next to me, and started cracking jokes. He tried everything within his power to try to get me to cheer up. It was a pitiful attempt, but it worked.

So I continued the rest of my work day in a mix of emotions. I received a text message from my ex that they were taking grandma off life support. Then two hours later that she had passed. At this time, I bundled up my stuff and walked outside to ponder life and kill my lungs.

The other roommate, K, at that time called me. She had already cancelled her plans for that night to spend time with me. Popular opinion was that I was best not left alone and for once, I wholeheartedly agreed. As soon as she got to our work, we hopped in my car, got dinner, then headed back home.

At this point I was numb. I wasn't sure what to think or feel.

After we arrived home, all hell broke loose. K would crack a joke, then I would continue it. By the time R got back home, we were giggling like schoolgirls and all maudlin thoughts were gone for the moment. I was laughing so hard, I was almost crying.

Later that night, both of them admitted that they were worried about me. They had stayed up last night worried that I would be okay. In the morning, K had searched the apartment making sure I had gotten home okay. Just knowing that made me feel a lot better.

I still feel like I'm on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster. At this point, there is no logic behind what will set me off. I feel the tears welling up sometimes, but for today I'm able to control it a little better.

Tonight we're supposed to go to a bar with R's family. I'm going to get stinkin drunk and perhaps sing grandma one last song.

My grandmother-in-law dies today

I had no clue. Apparently she's been in the hospital in serious condition for about two months now. A few days ago, she went through surgery. However, after the surgery her vital organs have been slowly shutting off one by one.

Yesterday afternoon, I received a text message from my (ex)husband. He told me that she's been on life support, but her wishes are not to take any extra measures to keep her alive. So the family has been keeping her on life support until everyone can say their goodbyes.

Late last night, I finally found out what hospital she was at. It was about half an hours drive, which at 11 p.m. was fine. Well semi-fine. Half of the trip there, I was in tears. And doing 80. I kept thinking to myself how ironic it would be if I crashed the car and instead of one death this week, there would be two.

I got to the hospital and my (ex)husband, his uncle, and niece were already at her bedside. She had all kinds of tubes going in and coming out of her. I must say though, I've seen a lot worse. The hospital was nice as well as the staff.

It was awkward being there with the ex's family and the ex. He kept on looking at me, and while I wanted to give him consolation I was in no position to give it. Grandma woke a few times. Everytime she opened her eyes, her son and granddaughter rushed to the bed. This happened about five times. I let them say hello to her, as they flew in from Seattle and I live only an hour's drive away. I wished she could have seen that I was there though. There was no, "and your other grandson and granddaughter are here." While I know it wasn't time for pettiness, I just wished one of those times he could have made a half turn and mentioned we had both visited.

At one point, they all went to the cafeteria, while I offerred to watch grandma. I rubbed her hand and looked at her nails. The nail polish had mostly rubbed off, and all I could think was, "I wish I could paint her nails right now. She loved getting her hair and nails done."

Clasped in her hand was a picture of her late husband. Years later and her dying thoughts are of reuniting with her loved ones. It was beautiful. Oddly enough I think her consolation will probably be ours too. Her clasping that picture tightly is an indicator that she's ready. She's not afraid. That she believes she's going somewhere better.

When my ex returned, I bade my farewell. Had I stayed any later I would have run myself off the road from exhaustion. On the way home, I was rolling down windows, blasting the a/c, and shouting out street names, just to keep awake.

My roommates had called earlier around 11. I had texted them back a few times later in the night, but received no responses back. I really hadn't expected it. It had been a long day, we all had work in the morning. I had already declined their company before leaving, but honestly I don't know if that was the best idea. Some moments I was grateful they weren't there, and others I desperatly needed them. And I only had my stubborness to blame.

When I arrived home, the apartment was pitch black. I just kind of stared into space, not knowing what to do first, or even sure I had the energy to do anything. So I kind of kept busy smoking a cigarette, laying out the new comforter on my bed, rearranged my bedroom, changed into my pajamas, then fell on my bed to fall into a teary slumber.

This morning wasn't any better. I felt bitter and emotional. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to close up and be left alone. But a part of me still wanted to reach out, hug and be hugged. I think a large part of me still fears to care anymore. There's still a little girl inside of me that is sure it's inevitable to always get my heart broken. So I hole up inside, tell myself to be tough, and then just hope for numbness.

It's horribly ridiculous and immature, but we seem to be a slave to our emotions.

Who knows what today will bring. I have already bought a box of Kleenex for my desk and wait patiently by my phone waiting for word on her condition. I'm half tempted to just go in an paint her nails. Tell her that she's handling this much better than I. And then wait for that moment when she's no longer with us.