Dry Your Weeping Eyes in meh...

I have not slept properly for a while, but it’s been really bad.

Tuesday, of course, was the day of the funeral. I was drained and tired and then had to watch the oldest grandson since daughter had to work. Little grandson was with his father’s people, as it is the anniversary of his death. Too much, too much. At any rate, I got home at a fairly decent time. I actually laid down with Bubby in the bed and we listened to podcasts. I was ready for sleep. Of course, when I got home, sleep evaded me a bit and I went up to bed and didn’t fall asleep until after half past midnight I’m guessing. Then woke up fairly early, before my alarm for certain.

Came into work yesterday, dealt with all the back to work bs. Playing catch up on voice messages, emails, wondering why can’t someone other than me legitimately answer the phones on the weekends because all of these calls are moot points by the time I get to them. My aunt checked in on me.

I went to my bedroom after cooking, eating, watching dad’s midweek service. The pajamas I bought so my mother could have the top came in. She almost got got for the whole set. LOL. I cut it in half as she asked because she only wanted it for the sleeves. So I did that and sewed a hem in it to make it not look raggedy. It is actually adorable. So I sat on my bed and listened to my podcasts while listening to dad and then podcasts. Once I was done, I asked my son to get the stuff and put it up and turn out my light. I lay down and tried to play a game. Then I opened up my Bible app and read scripture. Then I started to open this up and start typing, but I couldn’t.

Instead I stayed up for quite sometime crying.

Not ugly crying. The last time I ugly cried, so to speak, was when I was going through with my grandson at school and I thought someone was touching him or something and he was acting out. I was more so fussing at him, but I was crying while I talked. Before that, it was when my sister died. I’ve not been so broken since then.

With my little cousins death, I think I fall into the category of those who weep with regret. I let too much time pass between where I didn’t see him. I let everyone tell me about their lives and never thought to think that it’s just a one sided story. I didn’t get to talk to him or see him. We were never in any proximity to each other. Gatherings would happen, but at the time when I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t go. In my season of making amends with people, I was never able to do that with him. In the last entry, I detailed about how I wouldn’t let him in my house and the next day when I saw him, he averted his eyes. He saw me, but he was angry so he looked away like he didn’t see me. That was, what I believe was the last time I saw him. So this and knowing two of his children were not in he and his wife’s custody, plus some of the crazier things I had heard, it didn’t make the picture of him any better, but I didn’t judge. I had my own crap I was working through with my children.

Now, I can’t even do that. But I also blamed he and his older brother, the oldest of the 4, for the disintegration of the family house. Truth is, the family, the family home, had been jacked up long before that. Their shenanigans were just the nail in the coffin, then I, the last one to leave it, actually left.

I hadn’t seen his brother at all either until Tuesday. That’s been years. I walked up to him and hugged and held him. That was my Bunny. Told him I loved him.

I want to say that I’m extra crybaby-like right now because I’m PMSing as well. That’s part of it, but I’m really sad about not being able to let him know I wasn’t tripping like that anymore. I would have liked to have conversation with him about spiritual matters even if he was a Jehovah’s Witness. Seems like he had his head on his shoulders more than most folks, although he was funny.

My one cousin showed up. She never really said anything until the day of the service, and that was even after the fact. She didn’t even stay. She didn’t even stay, yet she put up a Facebook post about him being killed and she didn’t stay for the service and though she was out running errands, it was all she could think about. This wasn’t about her. This was NOT about HER at ALL and I’m rather pissed that she did that.

She is the new breed. Here’s something you can be diagnosed with so you can say you are afflicted. Now who loves me? All of a sudden she’s an introvert. All of a sudden she’s got plantar faciaitus (or however it’s spelled). Now we suffer from depression. And here’s the thing, speaking as an undiagnosed lifelong sufferer of depression, I KNOW mental illness is real, but it’s not something to go LOOKING for. I’m a witness to this thing. I could have been Robin Williams. I’m always suffering in silence. Even in all my angst, I still know there is a time and a place for everything. Maybe that’s an “old way” of thinking, but EVERY DAMN SHIT AND THING is not about ME and my inability to cope with stuff. NOR HERS. I was so upset because now, it’s turned into, “Oh poor you. I’m so sorry friend.” This is not about her. It’s not about me.

She sent me a text later on in the evening asking if there was a gathering of family afterward. I told her where the repast was and from there, I don’t think anyone did anything else. Told her where we were and then she says, “Okay. I’m really messed up over this boy being gone. smh” I then told her “We’re all messed up about it.” Like you are not the only one entitled to grief about this. You are not more grieved than his wife, his parents, his brothers?? GTFOH.

I prayed and asked God to give me an avenue to channel my anger and sadness today. I guess this is it, Sweet Baby.

Okay, I’m done for now.

Take care. Love somebody and really mean it.

Kindest regards,
Sister

P.S.
I am not perfect. I only want to be. I am hella flawed, but I try to do people how I want to be treated. Sure I’m mean spirited from time to time. Sometimes, I do want people to rally around me, but not at the expense of something else. I keep offensive remarks to myself because I don’t care how much someone tells it like it is, there’s a tactful way to be real and to the point without being obnoxious about it. I don’t want to bash anyone, but I also want them to get over themselves, especially when this ain’t even about you…