First off, it seems I have to define the term "tragedy porn." I told friends of mine that I'm finally finished with it & 2 of them were confused; one actually though I'd done porn! I also had another friend who thought my husband had died instead of my sister in law. I'll have to send her a private message later since I've got a lot to tell her but first, let me define this term. I hope I gave an explanation that really did it justice for those friends but in case I didn't let's define it.
You know when there's a tragedy the media will cover it excessively? For instance, when 9/11 happened you couldn't watch anything on television b/c of all the footage of the World Trade Center towers. Not just on news channels but EVERYWHERE. They had no news to report at the time but it was happening for days & days on a loop.
After a while, people felt like enough was enough. That is how I felt about this whole recent death thing.
If you've read prior entries, you know I'm no stranger to the death of close family members. I've been to quite a few funerals & recently had to help in the planning of my father's funeral. I know a thing or two about them & what's customary vs. overkill.
I had no beef with my sister in law. She was like my father in some ways. Unfortunately, she was like him in the sense of having addictions & not being a functional human being to quite a few people. I felt bad for her family since boy do I know what it's like to live with someone who has an addictive personality & addiction problems. She also didn't want to get help for herself, resulting in my husband not being able to have a close relationship with her. Nor did she seem to want to have a close relationship with him. Maybe them being from 2 different generations also didn't help matters (10+ years age difference) though you could never have called my sister in law unhip. I'm also sure she had to be a far better mother to her kids than my mom was to me since she actually had hard times in her youth, knew all the tricks & that teenagers are going to rebel. She didn't go around trying to fight that fact or damning her kids for all eternity.
She struck me as the type of mom who could handle any problem her kids might have without being a judgmental jerkwad, resenting them for being successful or harping on some issue for the rest of their lives. I never heard her being judgmental about or toward anyone & she actually argued with her mother with positions I'd take myself.
Plus, she appreciated my fashion sense & always made me feel welcome in the family.
My most memorable story of her was when she came to see our apartment with her kids & husband. She told us that our street was where she used to go score drugs. I always saw her as a hip older sister; perhaps had I been able to have a closer relationship, she could have been the hip older sister I never had.
We had the wakes yesterday & the funeral today. Here's where it becomes tragedy porn:
1. I had to go to BOTH wakes since my ride chose to do this. One wake was bad enough; I cried some in that one. You couldn't help it since you saw her in the casket & the slide show had recognizable music (including "Angel" by Sarah MacLachlan, the song most known for being played in those mistreated animal commercials). I will also never be able to hear the song "Always" by Atlantic Starr in the same way, though I thought it was sweet for the slideshow & fitting for my sister in law. After all, she had decent taste in music. She's the one who exposed my husband to great classic rap I didn't get to listen to until much later.
At least one relative told us the music included was just too sad for things.
Also, no one I have ever heard of a funeral for had 2 wakes. You got one wake; that was it. We had one wake for my father & my mother didn't even want that. In fact, my mother in law outright said she didn't want one when she's dead since she hates the fake concern from people who never bothered reaching out or contacting the deceased when (s)he was alive. She makes a very good point.
2. At the second wake, we had to be subjected to a pastor trying to proselytize to us. One prayer is one thing; it's another to be telling people they have to put their hope in God or bad things will happen (or imply it).
Newsflash, Christians!!! Not everyone plays on the God Squad or wants to.
Why should atheists, agnostics, Pagans & others who don't follow YOUR beliefs have to feel attacked and alienated when they go to pay their respects to a loved one? Particularly a loved one who probably wouldn't have wanted these people to be subjected to a sermon. I don't recall my husband being subjected to harassment from his sister on religious matters when she felt religious at a given moment. You don't hear about atheists or agnostics trying to shove their faith down believers' throat at their loved ones' funerals or using their speakers to deliver sermons & "save souls."
3. We were all sitting in rows of chairs in there while the body was out & with the comfy seats in front for the family. My husband was in a fuzzy situation since he was the brother but my husband's parents were in the front and, of course, you had my brother in law & their kids. My husband didn't want to be in front anyway so we opted to talk to other relatives and let them know we should be getting together under more pleasant circumstances & in less formal settings.
This is not something I've ever seen in the South & only with my husband's family (those are the only funerals I've been to up here). Again, I've been to a LOT of funerals. Our wake was in a large room, no chairs except comfy ones on the side. They also had comfy seats in the hallway so you didn't have to stay in the cold viewing rooms if you didn't want to be in there anymore.
Here you had the downstairs lounge near the office or had to stand in the hallway. There was also the option of going outside (which was also available at my father's wake).
I really hate that setup. It feels like you should see a speaker or a performance. If you're not, everyone just sits in dead silence, watches the slideshow a thousand trillion times and is encouraged to just sit like we're in some church sermon. At least in an open room, conversation will happen & people won't feel awkward about engaging in it. Plus, you know to keep your stuff with you or can put it in a comfy seat where no one is likely to steal it from you.
There's only so many times you can sit and view a slideshow that way before you feel like enough is enough.
4. This morning, we had to ride in rush hour traffic from our house about an hour away to then sit ANOTHER hour watching yet another slide show in the same room with the same seating setup. I was like "This is no longer a funeral!! It's tragedy porn! I have to get out of here."
I'm not sure whose grand idea it was to tell everyone to come in at 9:30 & then not bother doing ANYTHING until more than an hour later. That person should be forced to give me a free glass of pulpy orange juice & pay our gas costs for sitting in the crap we had to sit in to travel 2 counties away.
Not to mention my stomach was growling during all this while I'd eaten breakfast before I came (no orange juice so I was also sleepy & POed from getting up at the crack of dawn, at least in The Angry Redheaded Lawyer's world). When I get paid to get up at 7 in the morning, we'll talk about the early/lateness of the hour. Until I do, I'm sleeping in & you can keep your sob stories to yourself. Oh, and as a rule entertainment people generally keep later hours than everyone else when they get to make that choice.
5. We also had to take side detours to the homes in the town where the deceased lived. One of them wasn't even a residence my husband remembered & he couldn't tell you which one was her old home. As he pointed out, what is the good in that? The people who wanted to do that could do it on their own time instead of dragging the full procession there. Who were we burying, my sister in law or JFK? I'm shocked no one tried to have the full town closed. Who doesn't think that's self-indulgent?
No funeral I have been to in history EVER did this. My father's did not include a drive by of homes where nobody knew where they were or why it was the least bit significant. We had the good sense not to drag people to bad neighborhoods to wheel his corpse all over town.
We went straight to the cemetery & that was that. The nostalgia tours (which are totally for the living, not the dead) were not inflicted on our funeral attendees. Not to mention people have lives aside from funerals on a weekday. They have jobs, rush hour traffic & plenty of other things to contend with.
6. The funeral home staff seemed determined to drag this out for as long as humanly possible. We sat in our car for what felt like eternity before the tour of homes began. It was ridiculous & showed poor planning. We sure didn't have a long ass wait when we were burying my father; we got that show on the road.
I also don't remember our driver going slowly like this one did; my father would have been pissed if that happened anyway since he (as well as the rest of my family) was known for being a lead foot & someone who complained about slow drivers. We've all got some road rage & don't deny it.
7. Finally, there were about a trillion "final goodbyes" to the deceased. We had more prayers, put our flowers on the casket and you'd think we'd be done. The word "final" didn't have the conventional meaning here.
One big thing about every other funeral I've been to: you DO NOT get to hang around & watch the cemetery staff put your loved one in the ground or the drawer. No one ever hung around for it & we felt it was done, time to move on. The dead person isn't at that cemetery; they are gone.
Not this time. My husband & the other family members go over to the drawer to watch them load the casket in. I did not. Instead I sat on benches & looked at the dates of life and death for people in this cemetery. I noticed that a lot of people with Italian last names lived for far longer than most of my relatives, leading me to think longevity is apparently good if you're an Italian living in Long Island. Saw very few plaques for people who died younger. That made me mad since my family's longevity is not even close to 80s-90s; try 60s.
I was also done by that point. A person can't be around death & all that tragedy all the time, non-stop for days on end like that. You say your goodbyes & get the show on the road. Dragging it out like this was just picking at scabs & giving the wound no chance of healing.
I put my flower down on the casket, I went through before the first wake to say goodbyes, the end of the second wake & before we left for the procession. I did all my goodbye saying at the start; I didn't need multiple times for that. Sister in law also isn't a high rank on all this in my book. I wasn't even acknowledged in the obituary or to half the people who paid their respects.
At what point did this become tragedy porn for me? The second wake long before the pastor arrived & sitting around over an hour this morning like we were in church to watch the second slideshow.
So if you're planning a funeral, a few things to consider:
1. Respect for others. The world doesn't revolve around YOU. Think about what the deceased would have wanted. Would (s)he want the people who came to mourn him/her feel unwelcome at the service? Would the deceased want you wheeling his/her corpse all over town? Would the deceased want you to drag out the entire process & dwell on things, Catholic guilt or not? Most of us aren't self-centered, self-indulgent jerks who think everyone else should hang around the rest of the decade & watch the same tributes ad nauseam. How about some appreciation & respect for people who are taking time off their jobs, not watching their kids, getting up at the crack of dawn, braving rush hour, whatever to show up?
2. Demand your funeral staff to be efficient. We could have been told to show up an hour later & I could have gotten more sleep. Perhaps we'd have also avoided the traffic we hit to get there. Make sure they have their shit together & organize things beforehand so they're not running around for things or encouraging people who took time away from work & their own lives to attend.
3. If you must have a wake, don't do that seating thing unless you're bringing in a stand-up comic or others are going to get up & speak about the deceased most of the time. Don't force people to sit there for 30 minutes+ on end with the tribute on loop & zero access to food (since NY law supposedly forbids anyone bringing food or drink to a funeral home; what if they're toting a young child, I wonder?) or loud conversation with others. You could also be forgiven if you're bringing in a dancer, preferably burlesque. The people with kids should also appreciate this since however much we hate that mess, they have to hate it more since that's just cruel.
Imagine my autistic nephew having to do that; he'd lose his shit very quickly. In fact, his screaming would be a welcome relief from the somber, depressing atmosphere. Watching these younger kids interact made me feel a little better at the cemetery. Life affirming stuff, maybe? I don't know.
Younger children at funerals just make it feel better to me since they're not bound by the rules of decorum adults are & generally get to be their rambunctious, crazy selves without too many adults getting pissy about it. As long as they're not being bratty like pulling people's hair or knocking flowers down, they should be around to bring levity to the proceedings if the family refuses to have a celebration of life & insists on imposing the law of tragedy porn.
My husband had the nerve to tell me earlier I didn't know what it was like to have someone die & have unfinished business with them. I had to remind him he was wrong. I hope he'll take the advice he gave me before.
Also, I know I'm not a goth or like Harold of Harold & Maude. Maybe going to a funeral is okay if you don't know the person but if you do? It just sucks & it's worse when it gets into tragedy porn territory. I already told my husband I'm not going to any more wakes or funerals unless it's for immediate family or a very close friend (as in, someone I've bared my soul to who didn't run for the hills when I did). I can't do The Death Channel; some people seem to want to live in it but I can't. I like to live in today & have no regrets about doing a modeling gig on Saturday. I don't want to feel like my career & plans are being halted and derailed because of all this shit. I already felt like I lost the month of June with my family stuff; I don't want to lose this month or next as well.
If you're wondering if this changes my general feelings on family, it doesn't. I never signed up for sainthood & would never tell you I'm perfect. I also think it's extremely hypocritical to say "Family is who is there for you & what you create, not blood" while telling someone they shouldn't disown their parents b/c "They're your PARENTS!!!" When you feel about a family member the way Thelma Harper felt about her mother, I think it's time to move on (Mama's Family reference; she felt her mother was a critical shrew who never had a kind word for her & disparaged everything about her, her husband and her family--you also saw this play out in flashbacks). I can't wait to get the full show in October & probably relate to parts of it way too much. Mama's Family is not far off from Southern families I've seen (though it takes place in the Midwest, not the South), especially if the family isn't rich.
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Why My Autobiography Just Begs to Be Written Someday
Among the other things I've done in my life, I learned more information amidst the death of my father that just screams "writing inspiration."
First off, my former friend who showed her ass at my sister's wedding chose the day after my father collapsed & was in the hospital to try apologizing for it and shoving her way back into my life. Real fucking nice there, huh? My husband went to his Other inbox to find the date on this little message. She told my sister she'd sent it weeks before; ha!
Doesn't that sound ghoulish to you? I really think it does. While I was in town, she kept calling my sister & trying to come over. Christ, what the fuck is that about? She probably figured I was staying there or spending time there. Exactly what would she hope to accomplish by talking to someone whose father has just died? That sounds to me like trying to prey on someone's vulnerability. I made it crystal clear that I didn't want to deal with her so injecting herself where I don't want her is the emotional equivalent of punching me in the face.
What sane person would do that to someone? If you're so hellbent on talking to someone, send a Sympathy card. Talk to the people who want to talk to you! Don't inject yourself into someone else's grieving experience!
I had to play "dodge the ex-friend" at the wake since I figured she'd have zero respect or regard even if my mother & sister told her not to speak to me. Though I think she could firebomb a church & my sister would still be friends with her. Meanwhile, had I pulled the shit this ex-friend did at my sister's wedding my sister would have cut me off completely & I'd have never seen my niece or nephews again.
My husband thinks I did this to get my mind off the whole wake experience. Looking at my father in the casket, he didn't look the same. He was chalk white & looked old. Even in the hospital he had more color though that wasn't him either. I have a nasty Yelp review to write very soon about the doctor who tried to deprive me of saying goodbye.
Before that wake, I did get in a fight with my mother over the same old clothing battle again. Even in death, she felt she had the right to tell me what to wear & had all this objection over my shirt that says "Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to New York." She thought that the pastor they had doing the service would get a laugh from it but claimed "that's not appropriate to wear." I refused to budge on that issue & opted to stay home. At least one friend agreed with me on this; I couldn't see her ever letting anyone censor her style so I figured I shouldn't do it either. Gee, I don't live there, don't go to that church, am not even in that religion & am a grown woman!
Sooner or later you have to say "Enough is enough." Just because my sister asks my mother's approval on clothing doesn't mean I should have to. Plus, I'm a model & live in NYC; I know more about fashion than they do. Nor should they get any right to try shaming me into being a frump. I knew my father wouldn't care & was never obsessed with trying to infantalize me. Maybe to piss my mom off if she dies before me, I should really wear a stripper like outfit to the funeral (in black, of course)!
On Wednesday, the funeral, I opted not to wear makeup. While I was soaking my eyes, my father's cat Layla jumped onto the bed. My mom was saying she missed her Daddy; it made me cry since I knew this cat wasn't going to get the same affection from anyone that she got from him. I thought about how my cats would feel if my husband or I died, especially my Russian Blue since his breed gets super attached to their humans. Considering I was barely able to get my contacts in from drying out my eyes with tears, I figured eye makeup would be a bad idea. Plus if I'm wearing it I get very conscientious about not messing it up.
I got to wear my black silk dress that I'd gotten ages ago & felt would be the perfect funeral dress. It was sporadically raining outside & I was worried I'd be getting it soaked i.e. ruining it. I was assured I looked gorgeous in it; if you saw it & already think I am even in my worst times, you'd have probably thought so as well.
We got a family car from the funeral home at my sister's request so I rode in that with even the driver holding an umbrella to protect my dress while I traipsed the muddy driveway to the limo. In so many ways it was a tight squeeze and as someone who both isn't a "believer" + is childfree, it was not pleasant for me. I couldn't help but cry at parts of the service & when they played "Taps" as part of the military portion of the funeral. My father really didn't know a stranger; as part of his being gone, I'm trying to be less closed off on the unpleasant stuff.
I've still felt compelled to cry at times. Sometimes little things triggered it like seeing Layla and petting her. For some reason, she wasn't nearly as skittish as she was in the past. I sure don't want to hear about Father's Day shit; in fact, I'd rather not celebrate it at all. Can't even imagine how Thanksgiving or Christmas will be; they feel a million miles away right now.
I did write a letter to say the things I never got to say. Writing that also made me teary eyed. I'm sure it had to be fun for my seatmate on Amtrak but at least he was respectful & didn't pry into my private affairs.
Death makes you see who your real friends are & who they aren't. Some haven't even mustered a "That sucks" & I do know one thing for certain: my future isn't going to be with City Bar's Entertainment Committee. I've seen all kinds of things about their loved one's funerals but no one's bothered posting about my father's. Out of state or not, that's still an immediate family member of mine & I know if it was certain people's parents, they'd get an announcement & information on it. I did my part by alerting the Committee President on it. If I can't even get that, I shouldn't have to announce it myself. This isn't an IndieGoGo campaign or my modeling debut. I feel quite betrayed & insulted here.
Nor should a woman ever have to tell her husband she needs comforting. My husband ticked me off a few times by not getting that & just hanging out with my nephew or brother in law instead of doing the very thing he was supposed to be in NC doing in the first place: comforting me. Is this a guy thing? Do we women actually have to tell our romantic partners "Hey, I'm upset here! I'd like a hug (or grief nookie or whatever.)"
I got back home Friday night amidst pouring rain. It rained in NC much more than I expected during the week so it was a good thing I took my hoodie & waterproof jacket. Made sure to wear them on Friday since they called for rain from NC to where I had to go. My train was delayed by 2 hours but I still beat my husband back to NY state. He flew since he opted to fly later & couldn't cancel the return trip without paying a ton of money for the cancellation fee. I refuse to fly for various reasons, particularly the whole being treated like a criminal thing & the sexism against women with baggage policies (yes, it's totally sexist to women considering we usually have to pack more & are expected by conventional society to care more about our appearance). I figured I didn't need more bullshit when it's already a pain in the ass to get to NC from where I live & vice versa. Unless you drive yourself (which has its own hassles & challenge), it's literally a pain to deal with transit to get to the area. I also expected delays & wasn't sure my husband would be able to fly out, especially since he was flying US Airways (one of the worst airlines in existence).
Only since I've gotten home do I feel that I've gotten any respite from this. We had no rental car or privacy from all of it. No grief nookie or even grief making out, no feeling I was at home or real way to feel comfortable. I feel like a prisoner when I'm in NC, at least when I'm not hanging out with people like those I associate with on my own in NYC. After that sweaty, rain soaked walk home, I hugged my babies (the cats), made the calls I needed to including some to friends & contemplated what I was going to do at 10:40 at night when I woke up at 5:15 that morning. I don't sleep outside of a bed or couch at where I'm supposed to be staying for the night unless I'm really out of it. That takes a lot from me since I'm paranoid about theft while I sleep.
I also learned a few other revealing facts on this trip: my parents did have sex after having my sister & Psycho Boy, the guy I lost my virginity to, now has a boyfriend.
The Psycho Boy thing is interesting for a few reasons. First off, if I were a size queen I'd have just let him move to Marietta & planned a future with him. Let me tell you right now that size is nothing when it's attached to a guy who is mentally unstable & has an unhealthy obsession with you. Not to mention someone who loudly announces the nudity in artwork & raves about how hot your boss is at your work study job (while she's in earshot, by the way).
Second, I'm not sure I had major clues on this one since he just seemed to me to be the type who really wasn't ready for sex at the time while I was. Everyone around me had done it & I didn't want my first time to be with a rapist. I wanted to choose my experience & start living as an adult having those college experiences. Perhaps I was trying to break from the puritanical chains I got stuck in from childhood & embrace my new life. He made some peculiar requests later on but to me, it seemed to come from the lens of "This is new for me & I'm going to jump right in."
Third, he was the kind of guy to sway more into homophobia than tolerance. He didn't seem to be particularly sympathetic to gay issues; in fact, he wasn't the type to even know enough about politics or social issues to have an opinion much less debate me on them. In short, there was not that intellectual satisfaction that I thought I didn't need but in fact a person does need. My mother intimated this with her remark about our relationship not being sustainable since he didn't even have a GED & I was going into my second year of college.
After hearing this, I'm wondering what his father said or did. Psycho Boy told me about his father finding a sex toy of ours & assuming his son was gay instead of going to where most of us might logically go first: he's using it on this girlfriend he's been spending all this time with recently. Needless to say, his father was angry & perhaps a tad paranoid about the possibility of his son deviating from the Christian holy roller tradition of marrying a girl, having babies with her & all that noise. Psycho Boy told me about how pissed his parents were at his older brother for getting a girl pregnant outside of marriage.
I think I get a pass on not marrying this guy or staying in a long term relationship like my family would have wanted, don't you? My mother & sister were always sympathetic to him; even my sister made cracks about how I messed him up by being the first girl he slept with & broke his heart. I think I'd have been really pissed about being in a sham marriage & would demand a divorce.
These days, you can go to my home state or a few others in this country & marry your homosexual lover if you want to. You can get insurance & all sorts of stuff you couldn't in the past; all you have to do is go to one of those states and not live in the crappy redneck parts of this country where people love to impose their way of life onto everyone else instead of actually LIVING a life of their own. From what I hear, this would have been a relationship entered into under false pretenses. You have to at least inform someone if you want them to be in a sham marriage & give them permission to have an open relationship so they can get their sexual needs met elsewhere. I wouldn't do a sexless marriage, as should be obvious.
It was something of a shock but also a relief for me. Psycho Boy finding happiness with the other team means he's no longer obsessed with me or someone I have to worry about becoming obsessed with me again (at least if he's full on gay & not just bi). This was a guy who'd hated natural redheads before dating me & hasn't been the first to react in some strong way towards me that made me feel claustrophobic or trapped. It means I could see him at some event & not have to worry that he's going to do something to make me uncomfortable or prompt my husband's attention.
Maybe I also helped him get to that point or made him presentable to gay men; I would consider it a point of pride to have inspired someone to have the courage to be themselves without worrying about what anyone else thought. Apparently I was the one who motivated him to get his driver's license and work on getting that GED. The girl after me was apparently abusive but you never know: the being yourself without worrying about what other people think sounds a lot like me. I can say for sure there aren't many people like that in my hometown; more of them worry about what other people think instead of doing what they want to do. That's probably one reason I had to get the hell out of there.
It's interesting to note that according to studies, gay men are bigger. I thought maybe this was anecdotal but my husband looked it up & it wasn't. This whole thing with Psycho Boy would definitely support this since he was the biggest I had.
The smallest guy, however, wasn't a super massive horndog who jumped on anything with a pulse. I call him Corona Boy & he was definitely not the sort of guy with women falling all over him. That is something I couldn't speculate on since I was never the type to be interested in those guys (sharing wasn't my thing & probably isn't for most natural redheads) or really get anyplace with them (referring to the high school crush there). Maybe other women can tell us if the guys who jump on anything are the smallest & worst in bed.
It would be true justice if that were the case, don't you think? No woman would have to worry about not sleeping with that guy in high school or college since she'd have been disappointed there too. I couldn't say about women since I've not met any truly non-selective women that men would want to compete with each other to sleep with.
This has to explain things about me but I'm not sure exactly what. In the meantime, I'm seeing friends who care, taking it easy & waiting for the day I'll not worry about crying at random. I'm not sure you ever get over it & I'm still pissed by the unfairness of it all. Religion doesn't provide me comfort on it. The only comfort I have is that I'm going to make money from what I do or die trying. I won't have anyone belittle or undermine my career or use lack of money to claim it's not valid. I owe it to my deceased family to keep living to the fullest and taking every viable opportunity I can. Those not with that program will just have to get out of my way.
I've also got a treasure trove of inspiration for writing.
First off, my former friend who showed her ass at my sister's wedding chose the day after my father collapsed & was in the hospital to try apologizing for it and shoving her way back into my life. Real fucking nice there, huh? My husband went to his Other inbox to find the date on this little message. She told my sister she'd sent it weeks before; ha!
Doesn't that sound ghoulish to you? I really think it does. While I was in town, she kept calling my sister & trying to come over. Christ, what the fuck is that about? She probably figured I was staying there or spending time there. Exactly what would she hope to accomplish by talking to someone whose father has just died? That sounds to me like trying to prey on someone's vulnerability. I made it crystal clear that I didn't want to deal with her so injecting herself where I don't want her is the emotional equivalent of punching me in the face.
What sane person would do that to someone? If you're so hellbent on talking to someone, send a Sympathy card. Talk to the people who want to talk to you! Don't inject yourself into someone else's grieving experience!
I had to play "dodge the ex-friend" at the wake since I figured she'd have zero respect or regard even if my mother & sister told her not to speak to me. Though I think she could firebomb a church & my sister would still be friends with her. Meanwhile, had I pulled the shit this ex-friend did at my sister's wedding my sister would have cut me off completely & I'd have never seen my niece or nephews again.
My husband thinks I did this to get my mind off the whole wake experience. Looking at my father in the casket, he didn't look the same. He was chalk white & looked old. Even in the hospital he had more color though that wasn't him either. I have a nasty Yelp review to write very soon about the doctor who tried to deprive me of saying goodbye.
Before that wake, I did get in a fight with my mother over the same old clothing battle again. Even in death, she felt she had the right to tell me what to wear & had all this objection over my shirt that says "Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to New York." She thought that the pastor they had doing the service would get a laugh from it but claimed "that's not appropriate to wear." I refused to budge on that issue & opted to stay home. At least one friend agreed with me on this; I couldn't see her ever letting anyone censor her style so I figured I shouldn't do it either. Gee, I don't live there, don't go to that church, am not even in that religion & am a grown woman!
Sooner or later you have to say "Enough is enough." Just because my sister asks my mother's approval on clothing doesn't mean I should have to. Plus, I'm a model & live in NYC; I know more about fashion than they do. Nor should they get any right to try shaming me into being a frump. I knew my father wouldn't care & was never obsessed with trying to infantalize me. Maybe to piss my mom off if she dies before me, I should really wear a stripper like outfit to the funeral (in black, of course)!
On Wednesday, the funeral, I opted not to wear makeup. While I was soaking my eyes, my father's cat Layla jumped onto the bed. My mom was saying she missed her Daddy; it made me cry since I knew this cat wasn't going to get the same affection from anyone that she got from him. I thought about how my cats would feel if my husband or I died, especially my Russian Blue since his breed gets super attached to their humans. Considering I was barely able to get my contacts in from drying out my eyes with tears, I figured eye makeup would be a bad idea. Plus if I'm wearing it I get very conscientious about not messing it up.
I got to wear my black silk dress that I'd gotten ages ago & felt would be the perfect funeral dress. It was sporadically raining outside & I was worried I'd be getting it soaked i.e. ruining it. I was assured I looked gorgeous in it; if you saw it & already think I am even in my worst times, you'd have probably thought so as well.
We got a family car from the funeral home at my sister's request so I rode in that with even the driver holding an umbrella to protect my dress while I traipsed the muddy driveway to the limo. In so many ways it was a tight squeeze and as someone who both isn't a "believer" + is childfree, it was not pleasant for me. I couldn't help but cry at parts of the service & when they played "Taps" as part of the military portion of the funeral. My father really didn't know a stranger; as part of his being gone, I'm trying to be less closed off on the unpleasant stuff.
I've still felt compelled to cry at times. Sometimes little things triggered it like seeing Layla and petting her. For some reason, she wasn't nearly as skittish as she was in the past. I sure don't want to hear about Father's Day shit; in fact, I'd rather not celebrate it at all. Can't even imagine how Thanksgiving or Christmas will be; they feel a million miles away right now.
I did write a letter to say the things I never got to say. Writing that also made me teary eyed. I'm sure it had to be fun for my seatmate on Amtrak but at least he was respectful & didn't pry into my private affairs.
Death makes you see who your real friends are & who they aren't. Some haven't even mustered a "That sucks" & I do know one thing for certain: my future isn't going to be with City Bar's Entertainment Committee. I've seen all kinds of things about their loved one's funerals but no one's bothered posting about my father's. Out of state or not, that's still an immediate family member of mine & I know if it was certain people's parents, they'd get an announcement & information on it. I did my part by alerting the Committee President on it. If I can't even get that, I shouldn't have to announce it myself. This isn't an IndieGoGo campaign or my modeling debut. I feel quite betrayed & insulted here.
Nor should a woman ever have to tell her husband she needs comforting. My husband ticked me off a few times by not getting that & just hanging out with my nephew or brother in law instead of doing the very thing he was supposed to be in NC doing in the first place: comforting me. Is this a guy thing? Do we women actually have to tell our romantic partners "Hey, I'm upset here! I'd like a hug (or grief nookie or whatever.)"
I got back home Friday night amidst pouring rain. It rained in NC much more than I expected during the week so it was a good thing I took my hoodie & waterproof jacket. Made sure to wear them on Friday since they called for rain from NC to where I had to go. My train was delayed by 2 hours but I still beat my husband back to NY state. He flew since he opted to fly later & couldn't cancel the return trip without paying a ton of money for the cancellation fee. I refuse to fly for various reasons, particularly the whole being treated like a criminal thing & the sexism against women with baggage policies (yes, it's totally sexist to women considering we usually have to pack more & are expected by conventional society to care more about our appearance). I figured I didn't need more bullshit when it's already a pain in the ass to get to NC from where I live & vice versa. Unless you drive yourself (which has its own hassles & challenge), it's literally a pain to deal with transit to get to the area. I also expected delays & wasn't sure my husband would be able to fly out, especially since he was flying US Airways (one of the worst airlines in existence).
Only since I've gotten home do I feel that I've gotten any respite from this. We had no rental car or privacy from all of it. No grief nookie or even grief making out, no feeling I was at home or real way to feel comfortable. I feel like a prisoner when I'm in NC, at least when I'm not hanging out with people like those I associate with on my own in NYC. After that sweaty, rain soaked walk home, I hugged my babies (the cats), made the calls I needed to including some to friends & contemplated what I was going to do at 10:40 at night when I woke up at 5:15 that morning. I don't sleep outside of a bed or couch at where I'm supposed to be staying for the night unless I'm really out of it. That takes a lot from me since I'm paranoid about theft while I sleep.
I also learned a few other revealing facts on this trip: my parents did have sex after having my sister & Psycho Boy, the guy I lost my virginity to, now has a boyfriend.
The Psycho Boy thing is interesting for a few reasons. First off, if I were a size queen I'd have just let him move to Marietta & planned a future with him. Let me tell you right now that size is nothing when it's attached to a guy who is mentally unstable & has an unhealthy obsession with you. Not to mention someone who loudly announces the nudity in artwork & raves about how hot your boss is at your work study job (while she's in earshot, by the way).
Second, I'm not sure I had major clues on this one since he just seemed to me to be the type who really wasn't ready for sex at the time while I was. Everyone around me had done it & I didn't want my first time to be with a rapist. I wanted to choose my experience & start living as an adult having those college experiences. Perhaps I was trying to break from the puritanical chains I got stuck in from childhood & embrace my new life. He made some peculiar requests later on but to me, it seemed to come from the lens of "This is new for me & I'm going to jump right in."
Third, he was the kind of guy to sway more into homophobia than tolerance. He didn't seem to be particularly sympathetic to gay issues; in fact, he wasn't the type to even know enough about politics or social issues to have an opinion much less debate me on them. In short, there was not that intellectual satisfaction that I thought I didn't need but in fact a person does need. My mother intimated this with her remark about our relationship not being sustainable since he didn't even have a GED & I was going into my second year of college.
After hearing this, I'm wondering what his father said or did. Psycho Boy told me about his father finding a sex toy of ours & assuming his son was gay instead of going to where most of us might logically go first: he's using it on this girlfriend he's been spending all this time with recently. Needless to say, his father was angry & perhaps a tad paranoid about the possibility of his son deviating from the Christian holy roller tradition of marrying a girl, having babies with her & all that noise. Psycho Boy told me about how pissed his parents were at his older brother for getting a girl pregnant outside of marriage.
I think I get a pass on not marrying this guy or staying in a long term relationship like my family would have wanted, don't you? My mother & sister were always sympathetic to him; even my sister made cracks about how I messed him up by being the first girl he slept with & broke his heart. I think I'd have been really pissed about being in a sham marriage & would demand a divorce.
These days, you can go to my home state or a few others in this country & marry your homosexual lover if you want to. You can get insurance & all sorts of stuff you couldn't in the past; all you have to do is go to one of those states and not live in the crappy redneck parts of this country where people love to impose their way of life onto everyone else instead of actually LIVING a life of their own. From what I hear, this would have been a relationship entered into under false pretenses. You have to at least inform someone if you want them to be in a sham marriage & give them permission to have an open relationship so they can get their sexual needs met elsewhere. I wouldn't do a sexless marriage, as should be obvious.
It was something of a shock but also a relief for me. Psycho Boy finding happiness with the other team means he's no longer obsessed with me or someone I have to worry about becoming obsessed with me again (at least if he's full on gay & not just bi). This was a guy who'd hated natural redheads before dating me & hasn't been the first to react in some strong way towards me that made me feel claustrophobic or trapped. It means I could see him at some event & not have to worry that he's going to do something to make me uncomfortable or prompt my husband's attention.
Maybe I also helped him get to that point or made him presentable to gay men; I would consider it a point of pride to have inspired someone to have the courage to be themselves without worrying about what anyone else thought. Apparently I was the one who motivated him to get his driver's license and work on getting that GED. The girl after me was apparently abusive but you never know: the being yourself without worrying about what other people think sounds a lot like me. I can say for sure there aren't many people like that in my hometown; more of them worry about what other people think instead of doing what they want to do. That's probably one reason I had to get the hell out of there.
It's interesting to note that according to studies, gay men are bigger. I thought maybe this was anecdotal but my husband looked it up & it wasn't. This whole thing with Psycho Boy would definitely support this since he was the biggest I had.
The smallest guy, however, wasn't a super massive horndog who jumped on anything with a pulse. I call him Corona Boy & he was definitely not the sort of guy with women falling all over him. That is something I couldn't speculate on since I was never the type to be interested in those guys (sharing wasn't my thing & probably isn't for most natural redheads) or really get anyplace with them (referring to the high school crush there). Maybe other women can tell us if the guys who jump on anything are the smallest & worst in bed.
It would be true justice if that were the case, don't you think? No woman would have to worry about not sleeping with that guy in high school or college since she'd have been disappointed there too. I couldn't say about women since I've not met any truly non-selective women that men would want to compete with each other to sleep with.
This has to explain things about me but I'm not sure exactly what. In the meantime, I'm seeing friends who care, taking it easy & waiting for the day I'll not worry about crying at random. I'm not sure you ever get over it & I'm still pissed by the unfairness of it all. Religion doesn't provide me comfort on it. The only comfort I have is that I'm going to make money from what I do or die trying. I won't have anyone belittle or undermine my career or use lack of money to claim it's not valid. I owe it to my deceased family to keep living to the fullest and taking every viable opportunity I can. Those not with that program will just have to get out of my way.
I've also got a treasure trove of inspiration for writing.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
So More Death Comes to My Immediate Family
Over the years, I've had a lot of relatives die. Some were people I'd never met, some died when I was too little to remember or only have a few memories & one was someone I actually knew well. Now comes another death, the one I didn't expect in the manner it happened: my father. I still can't bring myself to call him "Dad" but I can call him "George" as my mother referred to him (no part of his name is "George" by the way; my mom's just eccentric--part of the mystery is solved, I know).
I've lost aunts, uncles, my grandmother & the most recent big one was my brother in law weeks before I was accepted to law school. That one was particularly bad since he & my sister had only been married a few months, she'd just had their first child (who was 3 weeks old & had bonded to his father in the womb) and he would have been eligible for health insurance in a few months.
My parents just got out of bankruptcy & my mom was happy he was getting a full paycheck. He'd just recovered from a knee injury & to talk to him, you'd never think of him as "old" or "boring." He hated the slow drivers on the road just like everyone else. He wasn't even 60 years old & this happened. The doctor said apparently this kind of thing happens often; people just drop for mysterious reasons, slip into comas & don't recover. If it happened to my father, I wonder, what's to stop it from happening to anyone else? Me, you, the guy down the block? We're not promised tomorrow. He's now been declared brain dead & they're only leaving him on life support until I can get there to say goodbye.
I already learned about the fleeting nature of life after my brother in law (my sister's first husband) died. I just wonder why the fuck God is pissing on my family. It's been that way forever for them; what the fuck?!?!?! Since when is my mother Job? She and my sister are totally devastated over this. I've been emotional over it but not sure if it's just the tragedy of the whole thing or actually caring. I definitely know it's not making life easy on my mom. Father's Day & major holidays are going to be a total bitch, even for me not living there. At least we had last Thanksgiving, I keep telling myself.
This "praying" stuff also bothers me. God is the one who decides it's your time, right? It's infallible & set in stone. So what good does praying do? You can hope, you can try to be optimistic but there's the element of realism to consider. If your number is up, isn't prayer just a waste of time or is it like getting clemency from the governor or something? Guess I'm also getting crotchety about it like the hard core atheists. I've known people are just saying it to be nice but I'd rather you just say you're thinking of me or sending good vibes my way.
A few things about my grief process:
1. I don't eat much. I wouldn't be shocked if I lost a bunch of weight if my mom or sister died. Really, I wondered why people kept giving us food when my brother in law died since I had no appetite? I figured drugs would be better: something to make you want to eat or not feel depressed would be the ticket. Note I didn't say illegal drugs since there are legal drugs that can do this stuff.
2. I won't want to cry but when it hits me, it hits in a huge way. Last night, it hit hard when I was telling people I was now going down there to say goodbye. It also hit hard when I saw my cat Oswald (we thought he was a girl but when the vet said he was a neutered male, Ortensia became Oswald). George will never get to meet him. When my brother in law died, it hit me when I was in my supervisor's office & realized that my oldest nephew would never know his dad. At least he's got my sister's second husband now & he's been a good Daddy to him.
3. I can't be surrounded by it 24/7. I need respite from time to time, hanging out & interacting with people who have nothing to do with it i.e. not related to the person who died & suffering the same sense of grief or worse than me.
4. I need human contact. Ideally, someone to hold me who won't let me go before I say so. Now that I have him, my husband is ideal for this but a guy friend who won't try taking advantage will do in a pinch. I'm upset my husband can't be with me until the funeral. That will be tough. Yes, I did get laid the night my brother in law died (with an ex I happened to run into that evening; it lead to a brief reconciliation) & that's one reason I need my husband with me now. I don't dislike sex anyway but in grief, I crave that human contact & that connection. You need something to counteract the pall that comes over you. It's in your stomach, your throat, your face, your movements; it's like you're wearing a heavy cloak you have no clue how to remove.
5. Don't pray for me. Say you're thinking of me or sending me good wishes but don't try to convert me or tell me about how great Jesus or God are. Spare me the sermons. You aren't going to convince me to go back to the puritanical Baptist faith I ran from.
Yeah, I'm damn upset right now. I'm not in a good mood & crossing me is bad enough on a normal day. This is rage times a trillion. I'm also not very happy with people who've been told about it who've said not a word to me. No "I'm sorry" or "Hope you feel better" or even "That sucks." I think I'll be cleaning some house when I get back to town. You don't get to be a "friend" in my life when you can't even acknowledge that my situation sucks.
I've reached out to people more on things, remembering what my mom says about how if you want friends you have to show yourself friendly. Well, I figure you can't call someone a friend if you never give them the opportunity to actually BE a friend to you. Me talking about this is most definitely the opportunity to show me what you're made of in that sense. Are you a friend or are you worse than a stranger on the street? Most strangers have at least enough compassion to feel bad for you if an immediate family member is dying or dead. The hospital is also apparently damn anxious to pull the plug before I get there. I told my mom to ask them why they needed to do it this second when I wasn't going to be there at 3 a.m. If they want to get on my bad side, I said they can go right ahead & see where that gets them. I think I deserve my goodbye time considering I never got that with my brother in law.
Not sure which is worse: instant death or this waiting around stuff. I think waiting around seems worse since it's false hope & all this build up only to get disappointment in the end. At least I know the things to ask my husband about & tell others of in case he goes first. I also worry this will kill my mom from depression. Studies show that dead people's spouses usually die not long after the dead person died. We're just too young for this.
I warned my husband my family lives to their 60s & my father didn't even get to 60. No one will live long enough to be a burden but still. It just sucks all around.
I know I'll be shitty company for a while but frankly, I don't give a damn about that. Talk to me when it happens to you if you've got a problem with it.
I've lost aunts, uncles, my grandmother & the most recent big one was my brother in law weeks before I was accepted to law school. That one was particularly bad since he & my sister had only been married a few months, she'd just had their first child (who was 3 weeks old & had bonded to his father in the womb) and he would have been eligible for health insurance in a few months.
My parents just got out of bankruptcy & my mom was happy he was getting a full paycheck. He'd just recovered from a knee injury & to talk to him, you'd never think of him as "old" or "boring." He hated the slow drivers on the road just like everyone else. He wasn't even 60 years old & this happened. The doctor said apparently this kind of thing happens often; people just drop for mysterious reasons, slip into comas & don't recover. If it happened to my father, I wonder, what's to stop it from happening to anyone else? Me, you, the guy down the block? We're not promised tomorrow. He's now been declared brain dead & they're only leaving him on life support until I can get there to say goodbye.
I already learned about the fleeting nature of life after my brother in law (my sister's first husband) died. I just wonder why the fuck God is pissing on my family. It's been that way forever for them; what the fuck?!?!?! Since when is my mother Job? She and my sister are totally devastated over this. I've been emotional over it but not sure if it's just the tragedy of the whole thing or actually caring. I definitely know it's not making life easy on my mom. Father's Day & major holidays are going to be a total bitch, even for me not living there. At least we had last Thanksgiving, I keep telling myself.
This "praying" stuff also bothers me. God is the one who decides it's your time, right? It's infallible & set in stone. So what good does praying do? You can hope, you can try to be optimistic but there's the element of realism to consider. If your number is up, isn't prayer just a waste of time or is it like getting clemency from the governor or something? Guess I'm also getting crotchety about it like the hard core atheists. I've known people are just saying it to be nice but I'd rather you just say you're thinking of me or sending good vibes my way.
A few things about my grief process:
1. I don't eat much. I wouldn't be shocked if I lost a bunch of weight if my mom or sister died. Really, I wondered why people kept giving us food when my brother in law died since I had no appetite? I figured drugs would be better: something to make you want to eat or not feel depressed would be the ticket. Note I didn't say illegal drugs since there are legal drugs that can do this stuff.
2. I won't want to cry but when it hits me, it hits in a huge way. Last night, it hit hard when I was telling people I was now going down there to say goodbye. It also hit hard when I saw my cat Oswald (we thought he was a girl but when the vet said he was a neutered male, Ortensia became Oswald). George will never get to meet him. When my brother in law died, it hit me when I was in my supervisor's office & realized that my oldest nephew would never know his dad. At least he's got my sister's second husband now & he's been a good Daddy to him.
3. I can't be surrounded by it 24/7. I need respite from time to time, hanging out & interacting with people who have nothing to do with it i.e. not related to the person who died & suffering the same sense of grief or worse than me.
4. I need human contact. Ideally, someone to hold me who won't let me go before I say so. Now that I have him, my husband is ideal for this but a guy friend who won't try taking advantage will do in a pinch. I'm upset my husband can't be with me until the funeral. That will be tough. Yes, I did get laid the night my brother in law died (with an ex I happened to run into that evening; it lead to a brief reconciliation) & that's one reason I need my husband with me now. I don't dislike sex anyway but in grief, I crave that human contact & that connection. You need something to counteract the pall that comes over you. It's in your stomach, your throat, your face, your movements; it's like you're wearing a heavy cloak you have no clue how to remove.
5. Don't pray for me. Say you're thinking of me or sending me good wishes but don't try to convert me or tell me about how great Jesus or God are. Spare me the sermons. You aren't going to convince me to go back to the puritanical Baptist faith I ran from.
Yeah, I'm damn upset right now. I'm not in a good mood & crossing me is bad enough on a normal day. This is rage times a trillion. I'm also not very happy with people who've been told about it who've said not a word to me. No "I'm sorry" or "Hope you feel better" or even "That sucks." I think I'll be cleaning some house when I get back to town. You don't get to be a "friend" in my life when you can't even acknowledge that my situation sucks.
I've reached out to people more on things, remembering what my mom says about how if you want friends you have to show yourself friendly. Well, I figure you can't call someone a friend if you never give them the opportunity to actually BE a friend to you. Me talking about this is most definitely the opportunity to show me what you're made of in that sense. Are you a friend or are you worse than a stranger on the street? Most strangers have at least enough compassion to feel bad for you if an immediate family member is dying or dead. The hospital is also apparently damn anxious to pull the plug before I get there. I told my mom to ask them why they needed to do it this second when I wasn't going to be there at 3 a.m. If they want to get on my bad side, I said they can go right ahead & see where that gets them. I think I deserve my goodbye time considering I never got that with my brother in law.
Not sure which is worse: instant death or this waiting around stuff. I think waiting around seems worse since it's false hope & all this build up only to get disappointment in the end. At least I know the things to ask my husband about & tell others of in case he goes first. I also worry this will kill my mom from depression. Studies show that dead people's spouses usually die not long after the dead person died. We're just too young for this.
I warned my husband my family lives to their 60s & my father didn't even get to 60. No one will live long enough to be a burden but still. It just sucks all around.
I know I'll be shitty company for a while but frankly, I don't give a damn about that. Talk to me when it happens to you if you've got a problem with it.
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