Shit Fuck Damn

[theaudone123]

so...its been a year to the day that my grandma died. Honestly i dont kno that it feels real...even now. I mean, i lived w/ my grandpa for 2 months, sleeping in the room right beside their old master bedroom, i've consigned her clothes, i've used her old mascara when i ran out of mine, i've used the master bathroom, looked through old note books of hers that were just left lying on the bed. I walked thru the empty room a billion times, sat with just my grandpa and talked about how he missed her. I've re-arranged the upstairs and destroyed her nicely arranged bathroom (i mean really, if that didnt bring her back to haunt me, nothing will...tho i did try to put it back to normal when i moved out). I have used her dishes, walked in her kitchen, tried on some of her old clothes and shoes. And still nothing feels real. Its not like she's gone, its not like she never existed...its like she no longer exists..period. Its like she was a gypsy passing through a part of my life. Like she was suppose to exist till last February 5th and then it was time for her to move on. Like this part of my life was not meant to include her. Sometimes I go shopping and think, oh, my grandma would love this, i'm going to buy it for her! and then i realize there is no grandma to take it home to. When i lived there i would walk into the living room at about 10pm and expect to see her sitting on her couch, no make up on (its the only time i ever got to see her w/o make-up on) one eyelid kinda droopy, blue veins bulging out on her hands, long pink nails picking pink and blue tissues out of a box and to roll pieces of her hair in. Securing them with bobby pins. Half her hair still sticking out the other half held tight to her head in those little pink curls of tissue. That was my grandmother, raw and real. That was her on the days she wasnt fussing about how my hair should be longer so i didnt look so much like a boy, or how my jeans should be ripped like they were, or asking me if i was "poor white trash" because if not "where where my shoes?" Of course, there was the other side of my grandma i see in pictures and that was around on Thanksgiving and Easter and Sundays. The prim, proper lady who always had her best foot forward, and god was it a good foot. When she was younger she was beautiful, and as she got older she carried age well till the end. her white suites, fancy shoes, and boxy purses. I remember the fancy lady too. But my favorite memory is the one of her putting up her hair. The memory in which she looked old, and vulnerable...b/c even raw, no make-up'ed, and un-pretensious...there on that couch...the only person she was was my grandma. In my mind she was there just for me.

So thats my memorial to her. All of my family except me went out to her grave today and no one fucking told me. I live an hr away and no one felt the need to call me and ask if maybe i'd have liked to go. I dont ever go, thats tru. I dont feel the need to go visit the place they put her body cuz she's in heaven. But for my grandpa, and for my sisters, and for me...i needed to be there. I have never felt more completly distant from my family than right now. I spent the day in Tampa w/ Amanda's family for her Aunt's birthday. Her family cared enuf about me/her to call and invite us to a birthday lunch and mine couldnt even think to call me for a memorial for my grandmother??? Is this my punishment for using too many minutes on my cell phone and my mom turning it off? They have amanda's number, they could have called it. I WAS AT THE GOD DAMN HOUSE LAST NIGHT. they couldnt have told me then? I dont understand. I am hurt. I have a peace about my grandma and her anniversary. The most hurtful thing about this one year anniversary is realizing how little i mean to the rest of my family. Maybe i have made my own bed and now i'm lying it. I dont kno. I dont understand. I am lost.