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And I apparently fucked up telling the kids, because Laura feels like she should have been more involved and she’s raging mad and I’m just destroyed. The one day where I need the most support and mercy and the person I need it from the most would rather yell.

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I'm sorry, Brandon. Is there anything we can do?

I'm sure Laura will come around soon. She's obviously dealing with some big emotions that are coming out as anger. You're absolutely ok with telling your kids however you felt was right. 

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I mean, I know she’s having emotions too. We’ve been together for 15 years, so she’s had some relationship with my mom for that time. She’s allowed to feel her feelings, and I’m reminding myself of that. But, at the same time, I’m also allowing myself to feel hurt. And she’s still mad and treating me like shit. My brother, sister-in-law, niece, and sister are all here - they get sympathy and I get snipes and snarls. I’m trying to give her the same grace and mercy that I want, but it’s hard.

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The one thing my family does really well is mourn. I’m a little drunk, which helps, but a few of us are a little drunk and we laughed and cried and told stories and circled the wagons and brought each other closer.

I mean other people cried because I’m broken and that doesn’t happen.

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Thanks. The brokenness that kept me from crying seems to have been fixed. I go back and forth between numb and crying.  We made the funeral plans, and that’s all squared away. Looking forward to that being over.

They ruled it an accidental death - we were hoping it was a heart attack, but she fell and hit her head and that was what got her. 
 

It still seems surreal, and I keep wanting to call her to talk, but obviously that isn’t happening. 
 

Coincidentally or not, she refused to give up praying for me to get the job I was rejected for. Then, on the day we learned about her death, my boss told me I had gotten the job after all. 

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Just processing here and taking over this thread for now. I havent written poetry for a long time, but wrote this today:

Grief is not unlike the ocean

We stay in the shallows

to hide from our feelings

Afraid of the undercurrent if we travel too far

As though it would pull us down and never let us go

As though it would carry us into depths that are beyond us

But grief is not unlike the ocean

It breaks the dangerous rocks of relationships

Into beautiful sand that we can admire and enjoy

It hides beauty in the depths

The beauty of new life

The beauty of undiscovered adventure

I stay in the shallows, because if I go too far I might lose myself

I’m not a strong swimmer

And grief is not unlike the ocean

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Survived the calling hours and the funeral. I spoke at calling hours, spoke again at the funeral home where we gathered before the funeral, and then read Scripture at the Mass. I also picked all the Scripture and songs for the funeral Mass. Not gonna say I did all of it 100% sober, but mostly. I had a few drinks at the calling hours, because I knew who would have liquor in their trunk. A little drunk right now too, because we went to a restaurant for the funeral lunch because it was hard to find a place due to COVID. All the places the church would normally host a lunch were booked or closed. I had 2 margaritas of my own and finished Laura’s second, which was pretty full. So 3 margaritas, and I had told the bartender we were leaving my mom’s funeral so she made them extra strong.

Im a little overwhelmed with being “on” so much but I still have to take Louis to a Cub Scout camp-in tonight.

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On 1/17/2022 at 6:14 PM, Darth Krawlie said:

fucking hell

we're the age where it's gonna start happening to all of us now aren't we

I'm sorry man

It’s not only going to start happening, it’s going to accelerate - my mom was one of 5, and only 1 is remaining. My dad was was of 17, and 10 are remaining. The youngest is 65ish and the oldest is well into her 80s. 

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6 hours ago, Cerina said:

My friends with lots of kids all tell me that after the 3rd, it's all the same. 

Depends on a lot of things, including financial ability, which my grandparents didn’t have. 17 kids in a 2 bedroom house, for example.

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