Probably this hasn't happened to you. But if it did you would be freaked out too. I'm pretty sure.

Have you ever gotten a random text from someone whose number was kinda-sorta-familiar but not-familiar-enough-that-it's-programmed-into-your-phone; and you know it must be a family member because the only people you even know in that AREA CODE are family; and you saw the whole crowd less than a month ago at the funeral and since the texter clearly knows exactly who you are then yeah, family makes sense... but by that point you realize that you're too big a weenie to text them back and admit that you have no idea who the hell it is. (Bonus point for texts in the middle of the night!) So instead you text back something generic and noncommittal thinking that's the end of that; but then they text you AGAIN and it dawns on you who it might be, only you know if it's THEM, a cousin of your mother's that you really just met a month ago, they are probably dead drunk and they aren't even that close to you, so wtf are they thinking, texting you late at night anyway, but you also know that if you don't at least try to be polite then your mother will be all pissed off, because she really likes this cousin, even though she has to overlook the fact that this is the mother of the skinhead kid with the vulva tattoo; so you think about replying and saying "hey" to her, but then you get ANOTHER text and this one calls you "Our princess girl" and suddenly it dawns on you that maybe the person who texted you isn't really who you thought it was AT ALL; that uh-oh, it's a cousin of your mother's alright, but it's not the harmless drunken one, instead OMG it's probably the OTHER cousin, the one that nobody in their right mind would ever in a million years give their phone number to- because in your family there are actually levels of crazy, and this guy has a PhD in teh crrrrraaaazzzzyyy, actually- he is in fact someone who a) just got out of prison after doing 34 years for murdering a woman in front of her child (yeah I will just pause and let you digest that one for a second) annnnd.....b) is a creepy old dude who begged you to come 'party with his crew' last time you saw him (which was also the FIRST time in 34 years you had seen him and you happened to be standing in the hallway of the ICU where your Grandfather was dying but I guess proper hospital etiquette is kinda lost on a guy who only just NOW gets to eat with a fork and knife instead of just a spoon after 34 years) and c) he has already been forcibly evicted and barred permanently from his own 91 yr old mother's house for stealing from her and.... EWWWWW... OMG OMG OMG OMFG!! HOW DID HE GET MY NUMBER AND WHY DID HE CALL ME A "PRINCESS GIRL" I AM 38 FUCKING YEARS OLD??? AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME HE DOES NOT ALSO HAVE MY HOME ADDRESS BECAUSE IF HE DOES THEN I OBVIOUSLY HAVE TO MOVE IMMEDIATELY.

Muddling through

Grief has left me raw, and wrecked.

I am not sure at this point how much my emotional reaction is grief for my grandfather, and how much is actually grief for all the losses I have experienced in the past two years. The losses just mounted....first it was my marriage, disposable income, a functioning co-parent for my kids, then our home, our dog, my truck, all social standing, my pride, etc, etc, etc....

I realized I haven't done a great job reconciling myself to all these losses. Instead I have more or less been coasting along as though I might wake up any day now back in my old life. (Denial: no longer just a river in Egypt)

Having my 20 year high school reunion looming in my future, coupled with the grief of losing so much, has made me take a long hard look at my life- where I am, where I want to be, and what it will take to get there.

Frankly it's depressing as all hell.

I'm 38 years old, with three kids, no education, no accomplishments to speak of, and no real prospects.

I had kind of had a hope in the back of my mind that whenever I sold the house I would have a nest egg that would help me and the kids move forward with some more security. That hasn't happened, my family is tapped out, and my employment situation is really shaky. I honestly have no idea how I will pay my rent through the end of the year. Not a great place to be.

I'd like to find a way, ideally, to go back to school to at least finish my BA in English- maybe turn the writing thing into an actual gig. But that seems irresponsible, given how many starving artists are out there. So probably I should go in a more practical direction. Sigh.

But first I need to break free of this inertia, depression, and grief, and start moving forward.

Drowning

This past weekend was my grandfather's funeral.

I can't believe I just typed that sentence.

VCB moved Heaven and Earth to come to the services with me. Jackass' sister took the kids a day early so I could leave. We drove up overnight, after Dad and VCB got off work. Twelve hours. Again.

I was worried about my grandmother, who, after 62 years of marriage, has been left alone. However, I needn't have been. My grandmother (who is brain injured, and extremely self-absorbed) did not seem affected at all. It was very difficult to see her being her usual chatty and oblivious self while we were all walking around numb with grief. She has a 'helper", a patient, kind, loving angel named Pam, who took care of getting her ready and bringing her to the visitations and funeral service. Thank God. None of us could have done it without being unkind to her, even me.

Introducing VCB to my family at the funeral home felt surreal. Of all the circumstances to have had to debut the wierdness that is my extended family- doing it with my grandfather lying in his casket ten feet away was almost nauseating.

Everyone kept saying he looked good.

To me, the body in the blue casket was barely recognizable. In life, to me, he was most notable for his animation, his sparkle, his laugh. His bright blue eyes, his smile. The makeup covered still, cold form wearing a suit (a suit???) was foreign to me. Only his hands, the beloved hands that have held me and patted me and stroked me my whole life- the hands that in these last years I would take to keep HIM steady as we made our way along, the hands that reached for me and comforted me even as he lay dying- only his hands, bruised from the IV's and folded peacefully, were those of my grandfather.

I got through it, the visitation, mostly thanks to the devotion of VCB- who stayed beside me and was absolutely a rock. It was pretty horrifying having him witness some of their behavior. To my credit I managed to refrain from assaulting the people I desperately wanted to smack, who in my state of upset was pretty much everyone- (my cousin's girlfriend, who wore short shorts and sat on my cousin's lap while he groped her ass; my cousin/uncle (?) who made a pass at me (gross); my aunt who said introduced me as her "hot niece" (double gross, and really- WTF??); the skinhead with a woman's genitals tattooed on his shaved head; the idiot who wore basketball shorts; my mother's cousin who kept touching me and crying; my grandmother, who acted for all the world like it was just a pleasant family outing; the funeral director who was just an asshole.)

The funeral. The song they opened with, that we danced to at my wedding. The hearse, the 21 gun salute. The folding and presentation of the flag to my grandmother. The old man from the VFW who leaned forward and whispered. "Farewell, my comrade." The rose I took from the arrangement at the cemetery.

There were a few bright spots.

My grandfather's three surviving brothers, who reminded me so much of him, his eyes, his mannerisms, his voice- were sweet and kind and I enjoyed talking to them very much.

My mother was strong, and kind and sweet to me. My aunt, who usually makes things about herself- who just hugged me and held me up and cried with me. My cousin, who took VCB and I out for a beer. VCB, who distracted me, fed me, held me, steered me through the entire thing in my numbness and shock. He was just perfect- solid and kind and loving.

So I am home. And Real Life has resumed. The kids returned to school yesterday. I am trying to get back into the swing of things at work. I have court Friday, to get Jackass sentenced for his failure to pay support. We were supposed to go to the race this weekend but can't since we went to the funeral and now have no available childcare for VCB's kids.

I continue to disappoint VCB in every way, and to feel completely inadequate as a partner. I am not sure what the future holds for me but at this moment it all feels like too much. I am drowning in my grief and fear and hurt. I have cried every day for a month. I feel like I am coming apart at the seams.

Numb

My Grandfather passed away yesterday afternoon. My Dad came to tell me, and as soon as I saw his truck in the driveway, I knew. I literally fell to my knees, crushed with grief that was so raw, so physically painful, I couldn't breathe. I did not know that my body would HURT, that my heart could feel, quite literally, broken.

Knowing it was going to happen didn't really protect me after all.

VCB stayed by my side, appearing shortly after I got the news. Thank God I have a strong and loving hand to hold. Thank God I don't have to do this alone.

Certain other people I really *expected* to care, have been completely absent; while relative strangers (my landlord, Twitter friends, the kids' school principal) have expressed sincere and heartfelt condolences. Even Jackass and his family have been helpful and concerned. It's been interesting. I am trying to keep my expectations to a bare minimum and muddle through, appreciating the surprise blessings and good wishes, without letting my anger and disappointment about the behavior of others creep up to gnaw at my gut. VCB will hold my hand, and it will all work out the way it's supposed to.

Tomorrow we will drive the long, long drive, which will, no doubt, be made longer still by the sad duty ahead- laying him to rest.