Well, after much excitement, crying, panicing, cheering, and general exhaustion, we are finally in Florida living with my gracious Nana. It's been dificult and we've only been here a couple of days. My grandfather's absence is hitting me hard. I wasn't able to come down for the funeral and I never really got closure. So he's here in the house in all the trophies, pictures, shoes by the front door, and unfortunately in body. Well, ashes actually. In a box. From the crematorium. Sitting next to my Nana's chair. There have been many times when I have been overcome by this sadness. Grandpa is dead. I don't get to hear him tell his tales, say "pickle-head" when he's angry at bad drivers, or smell his aftershave when I hug him. How can Nana stand it I wonder. Fifty two years of marriage and now so much silence.
We are living here now, in this house partially frozen in time. I don't talk to my parents but they are here, in memory sitting in picture frames. I feel like I don't know anything anymore. I feel like a big whiney baby complaining about my childhood. My mother was a bitch. Pchyopathic, Type-A, Crazy, Bitch. I survived. I am still dealing with the wounds. I have so much work to do the task is daunting. How will I ever move forward?
I don't know.