In Mexico

Today has gone on forever...

I woke up at 6 in the morning.

I still have the cold from hell...

my eyes have been puffballs since... Saturday night.

I haven't seen the gym in 3 fucking weeks! THREE WEEKS!

Yesterday was.. I guess it's called the "wake" in English.

I sat in the front row of the chapel for the majority of the 6 hours my grandpa's body was up there.

I have no clue how many people were there... I know it was too many to count... I saw some of them, but I usually kept my head down whenever I left the chapel thingy for the bathroom. My eyes were a mess, I had no glasses, and my nose was often disgusting, so why look the entire Hometown in the face when I look like that? More than half of those people have never seen adult-ish AnoMALIE without an ounce of eye makeup... less than 5 percent have seen AnoMALIE cry. I wanted to keep it that way.

I did a relatively good job not crying. I only cried three times:

When I first saw my grandpa in our private little "close family" viewing, close to the end when some lady (whose voice I've always claimed to hate) sang a song, then at the very end when I said goodbye for the day.

I cried during the song the hardest.

There was a line about "I'll know it's you when I see the roses... I'll know it's you when I feel the breeze..." and I broke the hell down.

My grandpa loved roses... he planted the ones outside my house in Mexico... they thrived most when they were in his care. God, how he loved those rosebushes. 

So when I heard that, I freaked out and cried... and the breeze line... well... I doubt there's a person out there who doesn't like a slight breeze once in a while.

Today we had an extra hour at the mortuary with Gramps from 8:30 AM until we had to take him to church.

I was cool... up until it came time to see him one last time.

From that moment on I cried... even sobbed when they closed the casket.

Not fun.

Then came mass...

ha.

Our family totally dissed TravelinDin and I. We sat behind the front row we were all supposed to take up. *certain* people wouldn't scoot over.

From that moment on... I wanted to die.

No, not because they made me feel bad... they made me feel furious, but I had to shut the fuck up because I was in church.

The ire made me get so sick, I got those same cramps I would get in college before exams... the ones I get when I'm too anxious.

Well, I tried my best to hold it in (gag reflex is not something I know of... those years with the eating disorer helped with that), but once the service was over, I ran to the bathroom.

I guess everyone noted my absence, and they were furious... waiting for me.

The ride back to the cemetery, and once there, I had everyone pissed at me...

I got the cold shoulder BIG time from everybody.

??

Yeah... that's nice... do that to someone at a funeral, where everyone has their damn feelings shot to fucking hell and the slightest thing can trigger a sobbing attack.

I had to come home early because the pain was unbearable.

I would rush to the bathroom to vomit... then sleep when I wasn't puking... then gave up on sleeping and just played on-line games.

At one point... I do think I said "Oh God... I think I'm gonna die..."

but I'm better.

and I still can't admit my gramps is... you know... it makes me cry.

He's in Mexico... tending the flowers... with my grandma...