Today was my first day back to work after being away for the past three weeks. During my walk I kept thinking “I can’t do this, I don’t want to do this” but I somehow kept going. The first step is always the hardest. My day wasn’t great, I felt anxious and upset for no particular reason but I stuck it out and was quite productive. I’m hoping that today was just bad because it was adjusting back into a routine. Tomorrow will be better.
I’m now going to fill up the bathtub, indulge in a LUSH bath bomb and bring in my laptop so I can watch Netflix while I soak. I can’t believe I have never done this before. This seems like a genius idea.
Yesterday was a fabulously glorious summer like day and I was one of the fortunate ones to have it off work. I spent the entire day outside doing yard work , watching the birds build their nests and sipping champagne.
That’s the new thing I did yesterday. I got a sunburn in April. I knew if I just started typing it would come to me.
My cat is obsessed with going in my garbage can and pulling out used Q-tips. I want to stop him but he has such fun I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer.
This is what happens when I don’t write daily, it ends up being complete shenanigans. *shenanigans*
I’m not proud of this post and in fact it makes me sad to think that it happened. The day after my grandpa’s funeral I crashed. It probably happened for a lot of reasons but maybe it was just the first chance I had to not be responsible for anything. I don’t know if I couldn’t or I wouldn’t but I didn’t get out of bed. This was the first year that I have missed watching my children get their Easter chocolates and go on their egg hunt. I can’t believe I missed that. I will never get that moment back. I was only up for a couple of hours that day, I spent it falling in and out of sleep and avoiding everyone.
It is possible that I’m romanticizing Easter a little much though. Mostly it’s just greedy children fighting over who got more eggs than the other and throwing temper tantrums. Perhaps my guilt is misguided.
I just thought about Frank. Frank is scary as fuck.
I didn’t used to understand the concept of having food after a funeral. I used to think it was disrespectful and gross that people could even consider eating after thinking about and possibly seeing a dead person. Now I understand that people often travel from far away to get to a funeral and are probably hungry. It’s also a time to talk to family and friends that you may not have seen in awhile….. plus who doesn’t love food?!
Being close family I had to stay to the end of the reception afterwards and we all looked on at what was leftover. My grandma is a frugal lady and would not have paid food wasted so out came the to-go containers for us to pack up what we wanted. I can’t say I hesitated long before taking a whole bunch of fruit. I could eat fresh pineapple until my tongue tingles.
Free Funeral Fruit!
I’ve never been in a situation before where I was expected to attend both visitations for a person who has died. I’m usually the one doing the visiting since I’ve never been this close to the person who has died before.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a couple drinks before the first visitation. It was an afternoon of talking to people I had never met or hadn’t seen in many years. There was a lot of “I haven’t seen you since you were this high” (insert waist height hand position here) comments. Making conversation with and accepting condolences from people you don’t know is uncomfortable and downright unpleasant.
When the first visitation was over we went for lunch where I had another rather large drink. There was enough time to go home, fall asleep for 10 minutes then get ready to do it all over again. The evening visitation was much better for me because I had friends that came so I had people to talk to without it being awkward with the exception of my aunt and her questionable mental health who periodically interrupted us and sang.
An impromptu prayer circle broke out and I took that opportunity to leave the room. I’m old enough to do that now, when I was younger I would have been pulled into that circle of crazy.
Figuratively speaking though. The 17th was the day I got in a car with my parents, grandma and four cats for a four hour drive home. It felt like a circus. My mother fell asleep as she always does in the car but my grandma was surprisingly alert, as was one of her cats who would only stop meowing when someone was holding her hand.
My grandma is one of those people that feels the need to fill silence so the drive was a mix of her crying from grief and making racist comments about other drivers.
I faked sleeping so she would stop talking to me. I don’t regret it.
Their fat silliness was entertaining to watch but I was disappointed about the lack of gobble gobbling.
That is all.