Post.
So...where to begin.
I'm doing okay, truthfully. I hadn't been most past few days. Grief is odd, it comes and goes rapidly. This afternoon we had the memorial service, and it went really well. I didn't lose it until the end when I just ran into the church narthex and had to sob for a few minutes. And then it was over. And I felt better.
It's been really weird being back in Findlay. This is the place I spent my first year after high school, and at the time I was bitter about the situation and just wanted to go home to Florida. When we came back on Saturday, it was so weird. Everything was the same and nothing was the same. It's the same pretty/old little hamlet it's always been. But everything about Ohio is a little comforting to me. The type of cold it was, which was bitter but the ground wasn't cold enought for the snow to stick. And the trees, most of which are huge and barren. The grass is much thinner and softer. And for some reason, those were all the things I could think about.
I spent the past two days going through album after album for the pictures to display at the memorial service. That was the hardest thing. I had to systematically and chronologically piece together my mother's life. Mom age 3, broken arm. Mom, 14 with braces. Mom, with bad prom dress in front of the fireplace in 1978. Mom with dad and oldest sister. And then there's a huge gap, and all of a sudden the pictures are so disorienting. The past few years, she looked terrible, whereas she'd been so beautiful before. She'd wrecked herself beyond belief.
And because we're such a well-liked family in a small Midwestern town, there's been a non-stop parade of old women with casseroles for us. And the paper ran three obituaries. And the flowers, most of which have been really beautiful, have been arriving by the hour.
I dont' know where I'm going with this, and I don't even know why i'm doing this on livejournal. I guess it's because I'm doing better, and I don't keep a paper journal. When I got the news, I can't even describe it. You guys know I wasn't close with my mom, and I'd actually prepared for something like this happening. But there's no way to prepare for it. It sincerely felt like my body ripped into two equal parts, like the very seams of me had been cut. It was easily the worst moment of my life.
It's so odd. The service was really simple and pretty, but I hate those small Methodist services with all the Jesus references and the pastor who really wanted to be as kind as possible. Her problems were no secret amonst the family, but they weren't even touched on. I can't really complain about that, because I spoke myself. My grandma and I have always been really close. She asked me to get up their and speak, and considering both of my sisters combined are about at eloquent as Elmer Fudd, I obliged. I have no idea what I said, but everyone shook my hand and told me I did beautifully. That's the weirdest thing about being the survivor of the dead versus just attending a funeral: Nobody knows what to say, so everyone just talks a lot. And asks if there's anything they can do. And inquire about the need for monetary assistance. And you find yourself just looking at the floor, and not being able to look them in the eye. What they're saying and offering is very sweet, and generous, but you don't need it, and they know that.
I really need to wrap this up. The service was short, and there's no other way of putting this other than sounding stupid, particularly considering the fact that I vascillate spiritually nearly daily, But I just felt so peaceful. So peaceful. Mom was cremated, and she was gone. The church was filled to the limit with mourners. Yes, she was only 45. Yes, we didn't speak. And yes, I'll probably still be dealing with some emotional stuff for a while. But I guess, when you need peace, you just find it. And I think I have. I have to move on and not let this ruin me. It's the only way to pay tribute to someone who I loved, yet wrecked herself with her own demons.
This is heavy, and I hate heavy LJ. I'll probably be getting back on friday night, maybe saturday. And considering i had no New Years celebration obviously, and this has been the most trying week of my life to date, I need a drink. And you assholes had better come over and have one with me.
Thanks again to everyone for calling; it has helped. Now that this is all winding down, I'm just looking forward to coming home and living my life.
Thanks guys. Big ups to the New Year.
I'm doing okay, truthfully. I hadn't been most past few days. Grief is odd, it comes and goes rapidly. This afternoon we had the memorial service, and it went really well. I didn't lose it until the end when I just ran into the church narthex and had to sob for a few minutes. And then it was over. And I felt better.
It's been really weird being back in Findlay. This is the place I spent my first year after high school, and at the time I was bitter about the situation and just wanted to go home to Florida. When we came back on Saturday, it was so weird. Everything was the same and nothing was the same. It's the same pretty/old little hamlet it's always been. But everything about Ohio is a little comforting to me. The type of cold it was, which was bitter but the ground wasn't cold enought for the snow to stick. And the trees, most of which are huge and barren. The grass is much thinner and softer. And for some reason, those were all the things I could think about.
I spent the past two days going through album after album for the pictures to display at the memorial service. That was the hardest thing. I had to systematically and chronologically piece together my mother's life. Mom age 3, broken arm. Mom, 14 with braces. Mom, with bad prom dress in front of the fireplace in 1978. Mom with dad and oldest sister. And then there's a huge gap, and all of a sudden the pictures are so disorienting. The past few years, she looked terrible, whereas she'd been so beautiful before. She'd wrecked herself beyond belief.
And because we're such a well-liked family in a small Midwestern town, there's been a non-stop parade of old women with casseroles for us. And the paper ran three obituaries. And the flowers, most of which have been really beautiful, have been arriving by the hour.
I dont' know where I'm going with this, and I don't even know why i'm doing this on livejournal. I guess it's because I'm doing better, and I don't keep a paper journal. When I got the news, I can't even describe it. You guys know I wasn't close with my mom, and I'd actually prepared for something like this happening. But there's no way to prepare for it. It sincerely felt like my body ripped into two equal parts, like the very seams of me had been cut. It was easily the worst moment of my life.
It's so odd. The service was really simple and pretty, but I hate those small Methodist services with all the Jesus references and the pastor who really wanted to be as kind as possible. Her problems were no secret amonst the family, but they weren't even touched on. I can't really complain about that, because I spoke myself. My grandma and I have always been really close. She asked me to get up their and speak, and considering both of my sisters combined are about at eloquent as Elmer Fudd, I obliged. I have no idea what I said, but everyone shook my hand and told me I did beautifully. That's the weirdest thing about being the survivor of the dead versus just attending a funeral: Nobody knows what to say, so everyone just talks a lot. And asks if there's anything they can do. And inquire about the need for monetary assistance. And you find yourself just looking at the floor, and not being able to look them in the eye. What they're saying and offering is very sweet, and generous, but you don't need it, and they know that.
I really need to wrap this up. The service was short, and there's no other way of putting this other than sounding stupid, particularly considering the fact that I vascillate spiritually nearly daily, But I just felt so peaceful. So peaceful. Mom was cremated, and she was gone. The church was filled to the limit with mourners. Yes, she was only 45. Yes, we didn't speak. And yes, I'll probably still be dealing with some emotional stuff for a while. But I guess, when you need peace, you just find it. And I think I have. I have to move on and not let this ruin me. It's the only way to pay tribute to someone who I loved, yet wrecked herself with her own demons.
This is heavy, and I hate heavy LJ. I'll probably be getting back on friday night, maybe saturday. And considering i had no New Years celebration obviously, and this has been the most trying week of my life to date, I need a drink. And you assholes had better come over and have one with me.
Thanks again to everyone for calling; it has helped. Now that this is all winding down, I'm just looking forward to coming home and living my life.
Thanks guys. Big ups to the New Year.