To start up, my grandmother died a few days ago and her funeral took place today. I simply don't think I ever cried harder, or felt more like the ground is slipping under. I literally bawled in the toilet at a point, because I was afraid of getting too out there. I do that.
It hit me, with every second, that every time I go to her house(where she lived with my aunt and uncle) she won't be there anymore, and that I will just see everything about her imprinted firmly everywhere. I'll see her prayer books, I'll see the stove she cooked at, I'll see my little cousin, who was practically raised by my grandmother. And I'll just feel the huge urge to bawl out completely.
The sound the first handful of earth made on her coffin. I think I'll hear it for the rest of my life. I felt a bit of my heart simply break. I saw her coffin, and implicitly her be covered by earth, by damn earth, and all I could think about was her closet. She had this huge, dark green closet, where she kept her best things. Sometimes she would give me woolen socks that she had knitted years before from there. I never wore them, of course, but I still have them all. I saw all her children throw dirt on her coffin and all I could think of was the funny way she used to tickle me. She hurt me a bit, but I loved it altogether...
I managed to calm myself down in the end for the sake of my 6 year old cousin, the infant replica of my grandmother. Dad, mom and I drove home, exhausted. I signed in to Yahoo! Messenger, because I needed to talk to a girl from school about something. My sister, who lives in Brussels, Belgium, was online. I got scared, because she had no idea about my grandma's death.
You see, my sister was my grandma's all-time favorite, of all the aproximately 15 grandchildren she had. And my sister loved her to no end. My grandma was a very religious woman, she prayed a lot. Whenever my sister visited, about 2 times a year, she told her to get ready, that maybe next time she would be visiting her at the grave. My sister never wanted to listen, and she always forced her to shut up about death.
When grandma died, besides our sorrow, we had one more thing to worry about : how to tell my sister. It was going to be hard. Tonight, about 2 hours ago, the phone rings. Mom picks up. My sister is histerically crying, screaming about finding out over the Internet that her grandma is dead. My dumbass retarded piece of shit cousin had sent her pictures of the people at the funeral. Indeed.
Result? She screams at my mom for 10 minutes, hangs up on her, I try to talk to her on messenger, she tells me she cannot trust us anymore, that she is on her own, that we do not care enough about her in order to tell her about these kinds of things. She did not accept any explanation, since she considers herself entitled to hate us, since almost the same thing happened when my godfather died, two months ago. Mom told her on the phone, two weeks after his funeral, she could only come home 6 weeks after his death at a memorial service, which was three weeks ago.
Grandma died, we knew all she felt for her, and that she would not be allowed by her boss to come home again.
So. I've been freakin' crying for two hours, my eyes hurt, my head hurts, my mind hurts, everything hurts.
congrats for reading this long thing that has no effect whatsoever over you.
Jo.
I never felt shittier; about death, disappointment and anger.
April 5th, 2008 at 09:33pm