This is kinda depressing...

What�s up?

I feel randomly bummed out today. I think it�s due to some extreme soul searching within myself that had occurred this morning. Today is totally one of those days where I question everything about myself, and why I do it. For once I came up with a respective 70/30 of good and bad answers, however, the smaller number of bad answers still isn�t enough to satisfy me. It�s rather frustrating, because I�m always taking these long extensive steps to become a better person, and solve my inner problems, but I�m impatient. I want the problems to be solved yesterday so as I can move onto the next step.

I won�t be satisfied until I can look in the mirror at a 90/10 person, and I�m pretty sure that�ll be near the day I die, which hopefully won�t be anytime soon, nor in the latter portion of my seventies. Ugh, here�s hoping I die sometime between 65 and 78, that way I get to meet any potential grand kids I have, and if I don�t have grand kids ... or kids for that matter, I don�t have to dwell on it for a very long time.

Speaking of the grand- prefix, my mom called me in the middle of the night, last night, crying. I was totally asleep at the time, so I don�t remember much of the conversation (in fact, I had totally forgotten about it until my mom reminded me earlier this afternoon.) She started freaking out because Pop-pop is dead. There had been nary a serious freak out from my mom in regards to her dad�s death since the day Mister James Newman died. This one was nearly random.

It seemed like she was handling his death really well. Too well. A couple of days ago, we went to my grandmom�s house to get her to sign some papers and pick some stuff up. It was the first time I had been to the house since the day of the funeral, earlier this month. Nana had the doorbell fixed so it actually... you know, worked? The porch was cleaned, but there remained a small american flag that had been there for a really long time. Inside the house, my grandmother now had an alarm system. Now, I ask, why did she need an alarm system? Seriously, was pop pop her designated protection the few months before he died? He was ninety something, dude. He couldn�t have fended off a seven year old boy, let alone robbers with weapons. Get the fuck outta here.

Nana was dressed like an old floozie, or a just a crazy old bat imitating the people she sees every day on her soap operas. Women wearing fancy clothes to go nowhere but their own living rooms. I looked at her and her wig, gold earrings, and hot pink silk blouse and I swallowed my laughs. She really looked foolish. I don�t remember her ever dressing like that before. She looked cheap, and the house felt stale until she was out of my sight. It almost felt like the house was waiting for her to die, because she�s stained my grandfather�s good name with her ridiculous behavior, and that house, much like anyone else who knew my Grandfather (and didn�t insult him in one way or another) loved him. Or maybe I�m just waiting for her to die.

So, nana made her usual small talk, and I gave her short answers, because I didn�t have much to say to her. For most of what seemed like the half hour we were there I didn�t look at her much. I just kinda stared at the spot on the couch where pop pop would have sat - his legs open, cocktail in hand, if he would have been there.

After the small talk was over, I half listened to my mom talk to nana about needing a will and half thought about what I�d do to the house whenever I inherited it from whoever�d have to die for it to be mine. I thought about how I would have the carpeting stripped off the steps, because I didn�t like it anymore, and I thought about changing the glossy green paint on the walls to something matte and off-white. I even imagined getting rid of the tacky chairs decorated with images of birds underneath the plastic covering that I thought were silly even as a kid, and replacing them with something more conservative and modern. I thought about changing everything in the house, except pop pop�s room. I like that the way it is.

Nana said some underhanded insults to my mom, which rolled off my back, �cause I don�t really give a shit. Some old lady's� commentary isn�t gonna upset my mom to the point of me needing to stand between them. Plus, what the fuck�s my grandma gonna do, shake her arturitis pills at my mom? Get the fuck outta here. I did get a little pissed off when Nana implied some negative things about my grandfather. Oooh, that almost got into an argument as we were leaving. I literally did stand in-between them, although they were a good ten feet apart. My grandmother was insisting that she was right, and almost yelled at my mom- and at me. I find that interesting, because she was raising her voice, and getting ready to seriously argue with my mom-- something I had never seen her do before.

Anyhow, mom seemed like she was dealing really well with pop pop�s passing on the surface. It even seemed like she was handling it well internally. But dude, I remember the way she sounded on the phone last night. So desperate and lonely. Like she had lost the last of two threads to hold on to in the world. If she had been there physically (and I wasn�t sleeping) I would have given her a big hug.

It�s weird, though- the relationship between my mom and I. I feel somehow alienated from her, and close to her at the same time. I know good and well she�s pretty crazy, and a few of her world views are skewed, but that�s all because of which half of the world she�s seen. She raised me to see the light half, because she lived most of her life in the dark half. This really makes me sad, and gives me this deep yearning to be closer to her, but at the same time it drives me away with the same strength.

I�ve been crying a lot more lately than I had all last year, or even the two years before that. I know I�ve been more of an emotional person since my grandfather died. That�s kind of weird, because about a year ago, I was bitching because I couldn�t cry about anything, and all I wanted was the ability to cry, and feel emotions a little deeper. Now, I did put forth a little bit of effort to consciously make a change to be more �emotional� and spend some time getting to know my �feelings� but I wasn�t really banking on my grandfather dying.

Well, there�s that emotion I needed to kick me in the ass, huh?

You know what the very weirdest thing about my grandfather�s death has been for me? I really don�t feel like he�s dead, or that much has changed. I can still feel his love, and I can rest assured that he�s still calling my mom a dummy somewhere, and that he�s glad that I actually drug my ass out to see him when he was really sick. Don�t get me wrong- I�m sad that he died, do miss him, and I�m a bit upset over the circumstances of his death, which I�m totally not going into. But I feel like it would be silly and selfish to want him here. It feels like he still is here. But the part that makes me cry is that I really expected to see pop pop get up from the kitchen when we were at their house.

Bah. No more entry now.

Love and adoration,

Pam