Today was an alright day... I've had better

Hello heloooo,

I didn't feel alone today, because I was with people who made me smile. Frank is great, and supportive without having to say much. I don't take "Oh, my prayers are with you," to heart. I take actions to heart. His actions speak deeply.

I cried today at pop pop's house. I went upstairs to find a shoe for him to wear... for well... forever, and it was in his room. I turned on the light in his room, and I got sad. I felt the tears well up, and I got in his bed. I just curled up on his bed, grabbed a pillow and cried for a while. I cried for five whole minutes. I just laid there and cried, because I knew nobody'd sleep in that bed again. It kind of irritated me that my grandmother changed the sheets and the pillow cases. I don't know why, there's no logical reason that changing the bedclothes should bug me, but it did. It made me upset that the same blankets weren't there. It made me sad that the warm blankets were folded at the edge of the bed, like he was goign to get back in it, or even worse that nana was going to start sleeping in his bed. She's his wife and all, but she's kinda evil. My mom is crazy, and my grandmother is evil. Pure evil.

But I laid in pop-pop's bed. I had laid in that bed before. I had even slept in that bed before, several times. It just felt lonely in that room. The house feels stupid now that pop pop isn't in it. I mean, nana doesn't need that whole house. There's always been two people living there. This afternoon, I changed the name for their number in my cellphone from "Grandparents" to "marion newman." This kinda sucks, because a lot of stuff makes me think about the fact that my pop-pop is no longer a stable, constant thing. I can't know that at christmas time, I'll get a big hug and a card. I'll never see any more of his big loopy cursive writing. I'll neer hear another story about how he grew up in the south. I just have to rely on my memories, all of which are pretty good.

I just laid in that bed and I thought, and I cried. It felt like I was there for hours, but it was only like five minutes. I cried quietly, and cried with my whole body. It wasn't a sad, "Life sucks now" cry... it was a sad, "I miss you so much," cry. Nana is gonna have to change those damn pillowcases again, because I got tears all over one of them.

So there.

That was sad- but I can smile about him being gone, because a couple of weeks before he passed, I was in his room while he was hooked up to his oxygen, chillin in his bed. I didn't say anything as I just leaned over and looked at him. We shared a knowing glance... kind of like we both knew he wasn't gonna last much longer, but I smiled at him and he smiled at me. I told my pop pop that I loved him, and I kissed him on the cheek. He said he loved me too. However that whole death thing works, I know he's happy in a place where good people's spirits go. He had a full, long long life, and now he's resting. He deserves a chance to rest. I love my pop pop.

Everybody dies, right? Well, he died all old, and that's great, because I had the opportunity to meet a really kick-ass old guy.

I have no regrets. I don't regret not going to see him more often when he first started getting sick, because I know that wouldn't have sat quite right with me. I don't regret not haggling with any of his doctors, nor do I regret not visiting him the week before he passed. That's just the way things happened, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I visited him plenty when I was younger, and he knows my heart is with him.

I don't want to get old. It seems like such a horrible ordeal after 74. Your body aches, you're always in some kind of minor pain, and a lot of old people are lonely. What if I'm alone when I'm old-- if I really don't ever end up getting married, and I can't have kids. I'll be an old lonely woman with cats, who plays x-box live on sundays- provided that my authritis doesn't prevent me from playign games. I don't want that. I don't want to suffer. I don't want to be a burdon on my kids, or anyone. and I really don't want to be hooked up to a bunch of life support machines. That scares me.

Ugh.

Now all I have to do is finish this whole greiving thing. I've done an okay job of getting away without letting anyone see me cry, but come monday that's going to get a little difficult. The funeral's monday, and I won't be going to work.

Enough... I have to go to work tomorrow. It's friday. Finally.

Love and adoration,

Pam