The flowers you gave me are rotting and still I refuse to throw them away.

[strange_venus]

Click to view

The flowers you gave me are rotting and still I refuse to throw them away.
Some of the bulbs never opened quite fully
They might so i'm waiting and staying awake.
Things I have loved i'm allowed to keep
I'll never know if I go to sleep.
The papers around me are piling and twisting regina the paper back mummy
what then.
I'm taking the knife to the books that I own and chopping and chopping and boiling soup from stone.
Things I have loved i'm allowed to keep.
I'll never know if I go to sleep.
Things I have loved i'm allowed to keep.
I'll never know if I go to sleep.

I'm forcing myself to write. Because I need to write things out.

My head is a mess. There's some good things going on. And some bad stuff going on. And then just stuff. It's really just stuff. I should just see it as that.

I am drained.

Everything is a blur. My concentration is shot. I can not focus at all.

I have a funeral to go to on Monday for Mr. L's grandmother. This brought up my I HATE FUNERALS posts on facebook. Reading everyone's comments made me have flash backs.

LOL TRIGGERED. THANKS ASSHOLES. <3 kidding ilu guis.

I did have a realization today as to why I'm a control freak and why I can't stand feeling like I'm being left out of things. It's a great fear. It scares me. It makes me feel like something is dying or being ripped from me.

It's hard to write this because I've never told anyone about this.

When my mother had cancer, I was the person who was with her the most. Chemo appointments, doctor appointments, lawyers, going to work with her, staying weeks in the hospital with her, going to court with her. We were attachted at the hip.

My sister was too chicken shit to stay around while my mother was going through chemo. "It's too hard for me". Instead she was worried about herself, and self medicating with dick and drugs. While I got to raise her infant that was taken from her and put into my mother's care. But my mom couldn't care for him since she was sick all the time. My brother was.. I'm not sure what he was doing. I think he was with his crazy girlfriend. They both beat eachother on the regular. He was a drunk. He wasn't around much. My mom did have a boyfriend at the time she desperately wanted to marry before she died, but he refused her every time.

So, my mother confided in me a lot of what she would like to have happen to her after she passed. She really hated talking about it. But she did with me. Sadly no one listens to a 16 year old girl.

My mother specifically told me(and other's) on multiple occasions that she wants to either be donated to science (she had a rare cancer that usually only affected old men in their 70's. She was a woman in her 40's.) or be buried in a casket. As well as some other end of life desicions.

I only remember bits and pieces after she died. I'll save the long process, incredibly dramatic events leading to the funeral and skip to the service.

The service was at the church (let me say first off, she didn't want to have a service at a church and she didn't want God brought up as she was agnostic) that was located next to where we lived (trailor park). Never in my life met the pastor. Before this point I had expressed to my entire family where my mother kept her documents where she had wrote all the things about her serivce, what people got, so on and so forth. I told them what she told me. I was told promptly I didn't know what I was talking about and that the documents weren't vaild and then said documents disapeered/never existed (she asked me to help her write them while she was puking, I put them in her safe, I still remember this explicitly, so....). No one told me anything about the service before hand or what was actually going on with my mother's body.

I don't remember who took me to the funeral. I remember going down the gravel road to the church and the parking lot was packed with cars. A lot of loggers, teachers, family was there. Someone drove her dump truck to the Church and it was covered in beautiful pink and white roses. My mom's favorite. It was like I was in a bubble and I wasn't really there. I walked into the church and there was a lot of people there. All faceless to me except a few members of my family. I wanted to sit in the very back, far corner. I was pushed to go to the front of the chruch where there were chairs instead of wooden benches. I really, really did not want to be there. My sister and brother were next to me. My brother sobbing, my sister obviously high, but crying. I was stone faced.

I remember being incredibly confused as to why there was no casket. I thought maybe this was one of those weird memorials where you just talk about the dead person and then there was going to be a private family only funeral since there was a lot of people. I also thought it weird there was an ugly box in the front on a pedistal. Perhaps to leave letters for her or the family? Again, some weird memorial thing? Seemed like an enternity before the pastor stopped shaking people's hands and went to the front.

"We are here to celebrate the life of Wendy _____."

He then softly put his hands on the box.

Cremated.

And the amount of rage, and anger that went through me was like I was struck by lightning. I could not fucking believe that they did that to her. I could not believe that no one warned me of this before hand. I was -furious-. Tears fell out of anger that people didn't do as she wanted. And selfishly that I wasn't included in on the funeral plans.

My mother let me in on all of her life. And everyone else wanted to push me away and keep me in the dark because I didn't need to know about the process of her death. It wasn't my business. I was pushed, pulled and shoved away. My input/knowledge/opinion/feelings did not matter.

My mother treated me as a human and made me feel like a valid person in her life, and everyone else treated me as a piece of inconvient trash. This theme continued well after this. That morphed into a monster that is some deep rooted shit.

I don't remember the rest of the service. I do remember my counsin being so fucking drunk she had to escorted out because she was being so fucking absurd.

And people that didn't even like my mother/was there for free food(seriously, my 3rd grade teacher that was fired because she threw a desk at a kid in my class was there chowing down on some fucking chicken, never spoke to anyone. I know that she didn't know my mother THAT well to show up).

Besides that, I lash out when I feel left out. I didn't realize till now that this is the start of why I do that. I feel scared. Alone. Betrayed. This is also where the start of "My opinion and questions doesn't matter, so why say anything anymore?" once I'm denied an answer when I ask personal things.

At this moment I don't know how to fix this method of thinking. Shinning a light into dark corners is the first step. I'll let this process for now.