Just...Shit
Haven’t been on in forever, so for those of you who follow this immensely boring account, welcome to my wall of rant. Don’t want to hear it, move on. This is the only place I can vent without pissing off family or getting my ass reamed for my language and life choices.
As much as I love the holidays, Christmas especially, this years sucked ass worse than any in history for me. And thats coming from a poor kid with parents too proud to ask for help and too addicted to their cigarettes to take care of their kids. My grandfather, the man who basically raised me and taught me wrong from right, the man who helped me grow up to be the person I am despite my parents, who loved Christmas probably more than I did because he got to see his family all together, who has supported me through every step of my shitty life, this man this amazing man. He died on December 21st exactly two weeks after his 89th birthday and four days before his favorite holiday. But let’s make it just a little bit harder okay? Since I live in a basement apartment below the house and have for the last EIGHT YEARS to help take care of him, well grandma is panicked and doesn't know what to do so get me and have her figure out what’s wrong. I run up the stairs at 1:30 in the morning because she doesn’t think he’s breathing and he hates when she calls EMS so tell her what to do. Walk into the room, and I already know he’s gone, but hell if I am going to consciously admit it. Call EMS and both sons (my dad and uncle) everyone shows up at once, and I, ME, THE GRANDDAUGHTER!!! ends up making decisions and answering questions because my grandmother has never had to control anything, she is a proper southern traditional housewife. He’s 89 she's almost 80 and they’ve been together for over 63 years, she’s never known anything else. EMS says he’s gone and has been for a while so it’s already too late. So let’s LEAVE HIM LAYING THERE SPREAD EAGLE AND START TALKING ABOUT OTHER SHIT WHILE HE LAYS THERE!!!! I mean I get it, my best friends dad is an EMT, he was there that night but left since they didn’t need two rigs, I know once we have acknowledged he is gone that you have to wait for body release or whatever, but is the living room stepping over his lifeless form to joke around with your co-workers about a bad date you have to talk to now because he’s the only one who can call about the release and then preceding to chat about recent dates and what your plans are like nothings happening really necessary when my grandfather IS LAYING THERE DEAD ON THE FLOOR WITH HIS FAMILY CRYING AROUND HIM? Anyway let’s move on to the fact that I can’t stand to be in my own house. That every time I hear movement upstairs I immediately think of him and if he’s doing something he shouldn’t be before I catch myself. Or that I am afraid to go upstairs because I don’t want to not see him sitting there. How bout the fact that as much as I miss him and want him back, I resent him for leaving because he took my small amount of life with him. I’ll be the first to admit that I am the poster child for social awkwardness. But I did like to get out of my house on occasion to spend time with the people I care about and am comfortable with. Now I can’t leave my house without making sure there’s someone with my grandmother and she hates needing a babysitter because she’s not an invalid but I’m the only family member without a life and since I already live here it’s my responsibility. I hate my life, my choices, and the fact that I resent him for dying. But I also hate that he’s not here. as much as he drove me crazy about some things because of our generational differences aI adored that man with everything that I am and I don’t want to have to wake up and know he’s not upstairs waiting to have coffee in the morning with me, or watching TV with him during the day, or kissing his head when I walk past because it made him smile that I cared. or the fact that every single night without fail he would call down to me to tell me goodnight and that he loved me. I would give anything to hear it one more time. I don’t regret a second of it because he knew how much I loved him, I told him every day, but I still want him here with me. He will never get to meet the guy I fall for and approve, he will never get to see my wedding, never see my kids. My niece was the only great grandbaby he had and that little girl was his entire world for the three and a half years he had with her. he would call to check on her every day and would be upset if he didn't see her at least once a week. The last thing he did every night after telling my grandma and I goodnight was to tell her picture how much he loved her and goodnight. He has 89 years, he was loved, respected, treasured, honored, and will forever be remembered. But I want him back.
This turned more into a mess of I don’t know what but anyone who follows this already knows I either re-blog fun things or post rants. So you really should have expected it.
