I'm Going to Be Very Frank With Everyone
This is going to get long and emotional, so I'll put it under the cut. I might cry when I type this too.
Since February, my grandmother's health has been failing. I didn't got Florida over winter break because of it. I wish I had, though, just to spend more time with her and talk to her when she had the strength to hold a conversation. The doctors say she only has a little while longer left, but they don't know exactly how long. It could be two days or it could be two months. It's going to sound shocking at first, but I'd rather it be days because she's in so much pain and I want to see her out of her misery. Everyone in my house is an emotional wreck, my grandpa especially, and prolonging this for months will be painful for all of us.
But mostly, I don't want to sit shiva. I don't want strangers just coming in and out of my house because they feel obligated to as members of the synagogue. Mourning is very personal and I think it's only appropriate for family and friends to spend this time together. Sitting shiva means I have to cater to the needs of other people who are going to be in my house and who are going to try and "help" (and by that, I mean snoop through our cabinets). This is not about them. It's about Diti, my family, and our friends who have supported through all this and through the years. I just want to be alone with my family after the funeral.
I don't want people to come up to me and try to tell me how great a person Diti was. I know how wonderful, and kind, and smart, and funny, and sassy, and caring, and loving she was. I was there for the last seventeen years of her life. Don't act like I don't know her.
The worst part is that I can't say any of this or let strangers know. I can't stomp my feet and throw a tantrum until I get my way (like I did at David's bris after he was born), and I can't just lock myself in my room for a week until it's all over. I'll be eighteen in three months and I have to start acting like a responsible adult. I can't carry on like a child anymore. All I can do is cry because that's okay to do when you mourn.
I think I'll go do that now.
Just so this post isn't so terribly depressing, I have a little bit of good news: I got a 5 on my AP US History exam. But that still doesn't change anything.
Since February, my grandmother's health has been failing. I didn't got Florida over winter break because of it. I wish I had, though, just to spend more time with her and talk to her when she had the strength to hold a conversation. The doctors say she only has a little while longer left, but they don't know exactly how long. It could be two days or it could be two months. It's going to sound shocking at first, but I'd rather it be days because she's in so much pain and I want to see her out of her misery. Everyone in my house is an emotional wreck, my grandpa especially, and prolonging this for months will be painful for all of us.
But mostly, I don't want to sit shiva. I don't want strangers just coming in and out of my house because they feel obligated to as members of the synagogue. Mourning is very personal and I think it's only appropriate for family and friends to spend this time together. Sitting shiva means I have to cater to the needs of other people who are going to be in my house and who are going to try and "help" (and by that, I mean snoop through our cabinets). This is not about them. It's about Diti, my family, and our friends who have supported through all this and through the years. I just want to be alone with my family after the funeral.
I don't want people to come up to me and try to tell me how great a person Diti was. I know how wonderful, and kind, and smart, and funny, and sassy, and caring, and loving she was. I was there for the last seventeen years of her life. Don't act like I don't know her.
The worst part is that I can't say any of this or let strangers know. I can't stomp my feet and throw a tantrum until I get my way (like I did at David's bris after he was born), and I can't just lock myself in my room for a week until it's all over. I'll be eighteen in three months and I have to start acting like a responsible adult. I can't carry on like a child anymore. All I can do is cry because that's okay to do when you mourn.
I think I'll go do that now.
Just so this post isn't so terribly depressing, I have a little bit of good news: I got a 5 on my AP US History exam. But that still doesn't change anything.