I realize that funerals are not pleasant and that not many people enjoy them (or anyone really). However, I absolutely hate them. My emotions at a funeral are out there on a platter… so raw for all to see. I don’t like naked emotion within myself. I feel … vulnerable.

My grandma’s viewing is tomorrow. Tomorrow and Monday will be tough days for me. Because tomorrow means that there is a finality to all of this. It means that I can’t remain in my fantasy that my grandma is actually just visiting a friend or out shopping for a few days. Somehow, I keep thinking that she’ll walk through the door and smile at all of us, give us more words of wisdom or surreptitiously fart and then giggle about it (she did that sometimes… by accident of course).

There are so many things I miss already and yet, when she was alive I took these things for granted. She was such a fighter that I thought for sure she had at least 20 more years left of fight in her. But she missed my grandpa. I don’t think that she realized how much she would miss him until he was gone. Then when he passed she felt angry and lonely and missed him so damn much it hurt her. She was never the same after he passed.

She tried to prepare us all for this day. I know that now. For the past year I would often hear her say that she was ready to die. She was ready for the Lord to take her anytime. She might have been ready for this, but we sure as hell weren’t.

She wanted to be with my grandpa. I believe he took her home.

Tomorrow and Monday are going to be hard to get through.

I hate funerals.