Death.

I'm not afraid of death. At least my own I'm not. When you die, you don't have to deal with the heartache that comes with it. I'm selfish like that, but death of a loved one is a pain I wouldn't wish on my greatest enemy (actually I would. That's the inner bitch in me. I would at least sympathize with them. See? I'm not completely heartless!) Losing someone you care about is one of the hardest things to have to deal with.

There have been 4 major deaths in my life. My grandfather, my 8th grade teacher, my cousin and my father. Each one does nothing but cause heart wrenching pain.

My grandfather died when I was six. It was Valentine's Day. School was done, mom was finished with work. It was about to be family time/trade all of our valentine's candy. The phone rang and my mom's face dropped. She came over to us and told us our grandfather had a heart attack and didn't make it. I don't remember too many other details being so young, but I do remember my mom blaming herself. She worked around the corner, and on most days she went to visit him on her lunch break. That day she didn't. Of course that's a silly thing to believe, but when you lose someone you love, you don't think straight.

Mrs. Butler was my 7th grade English teacher, 8th grade teacher, and the only black teacher in the school. This actually matter's because there were only 2 1/2 black kids in our grade, so she always took a special interest in us. Like a mother. She was that teacher that knew I was smarter than I let off. She knew my potential. She got sick half way through our school. She had cancer. They never told us, but we knew. A few months into our freshman year of high school she passed away. The saddest thing I've ever seen was her children crying. They were all around my age. I couldn't imagine losing my mother. I am not looking forward to the day I have to feel that pain.

I was 18 when my cousin Joi passed. She had cancer as well. Me, my sisters and my cousins were all really close growing up. My mom and my aunt kept getting pregnant at the same time so we all had an age counterpart. All girls. We use to have the best sleepovers at our grandparents house. Watching Ghost Dad, sneaking and ordering songs on The Box, drinking Vernors. It was the life!!!! But as we grew up, we grew apart. We had out own lives and own friends and we knew just because we didn't see each other as much, didn't mean we didn't love each other any less. When my cousin got sick I didn't take it seriously. She was gonna beat it. I knew it. And we'd all grow up and have kids around the same time just like our moms did. Then it got worse, and then they moved her to a hospice. That's when I knew. I had to know. I went to visit her there. It was the most horrible place. It was nice and cozy, but you still knew why you were there. There were children. Infants! The people who choose to work in a hospice are the strongest people in the world. Watching nothing but death but being chipper to the sad families. Omgee. In her room we were all watching the Ohio State v. Michigan. She ran track for Michigan and was a huge fan. They had a Michigan blanket on her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. She made shrieks of pain. They said the day before she was fine. We all left the room. Me and my uncle sat in front of a huge fish take. I was crying and he started to comfort me. He told me it would be okay. He told me that she was in pain and he didn't want to see her hurt anymore and that god was going to take her pain away. He said it was okay to be sad, but it was time for her home coming. He had accepted it. I hadn't. I wasn't ready to let go of the idea that it would always be all six of us. I left. Went over my boyfriends house. She died that night. I couldn't go back. I know my family doesn't understand that, but I wasn't ready to accept it yet. I wasn't ready. It didn't hit me until the funeral. It was the most massive funeral I've ever seen. The procession had Cedar Rd blocked for 30 minutes. She was so loved. I wasn't the only one that wasn't ready to accept it yet, but none of us had a choice.

The most recent death in my life was my father. Three years ago as of Sunday. April 15th, deathaversary. My father was never around when I was growing up. My parents separated when I was two, and he moved to Atlanta when I was four. From age four to 13, I had only seen my father once. Me and my sisters went to see him. I spent most of those years angry at him. He chose to leave us. He chose to not be in out lives. He moved back to Cleveland when I was 13. He mad an effort to be in our lives. He called all the time. Would come by and see us, but soon he started flaking out and we wouldn't talk to us for months. In 2007 he moved back to Atlanta, but this time he kept in touch. We talked all the time. I was finally starting to have a relationship with him. It was all I err wanted. Me and my boyfriend at the time went to go see him. He put us up in a hotel for 3 days. It was fantastic. I noticed he wasn't in the best health, and even called my mom and said I didn't think he had too much time left. I thought he had way longer than he actually did. He died a month later. Heart attack, just like my grandfather. I was devastated. I still am. I was just getting a relationship with the man and he ups and dies. It wasn't fair! It isn't fair! I had just got home from work. My boyfriend at the time told me my mom said to call her. It was weird because I didn't have a missed call from her. I called her back and she didn't answer, then she immediately called my boyfriend again. They talked for a moment and then he hung up. He told me to sit down. He told me my father had a heart attack. Okay. He told me he didn't make it. Not okay. From that moment on my life had changed. I'm angry. At him, at god, at whoever I can be angry at. I don't think illy of the dead, but I have not forgiven him for all those years he chose to miss out on. I have never cried as hard (and I'm a baby) as I did at the funeral. I wasn't expecting to, but all those people talking nothing but good things about a man I never knew.

Today, my 99 year old great grandmother. Had a stroke. She has dementia and most of the time when I go see her she either doesn't know who I am, or she rediscovers that my father is dead. Both a lot to handle so I stay away longer than I should. She'll be 100 next month. My mom says I need to go see her tomorrow. Please pray for my grandmother, pray for my family and pray for me.

Happy Easter

Hellooooooo! How's everyone enjoying this lovely spring weather? Easter is this week. Lent almost over. 40 days of not microwaving food. It's a lot harder than you think. Any leftover, all have to be reheated by oven or stove. Soooo long, but I have to say my food taste better and I feel less nauseous after eating.

Anyway, to get the door all festive and ready, I made a colorful, Easter wreath. Lots of ribbon, felt and hot glue later, tada! Totally worth the finger burns. The price for being crafty.