My mother is diving deep into planning my grandmother’s service. She’s been dead for months but the service isn’t until July 1st. She’s put every ounce of grief into making this as bombastic as possible. It’s going to be bigger than her wedding. Apparently so far there are 240 people going to the service. Relatives from Detroit, Savannah, Orcas Island and San Francisco are coming into town for it.
It’s almost like the project she has is directly proportional to the size of her grief. It’s good that she’s working out her grief that way. It’s what she always does but at least she’s found what works for her.
I’m still having severe emotional outbursts. The other day, I burst out crying like three times over an hour. I had seen the day before this notification about an anti-Muslim rally happening across the street from my work, and on the day that morning, I saw a group of 25 young people carrying big yellow signs opposing the rally, and I started crying. I just got overwhelmed…
I just was so thankful that there are people in this world who are choosing to stand up against hate and intolerance. I need to know that people like that exist. I need to see that the bad people don’t always win. Or at least they won’t win easily.
Later on, I was gathering items in the store and this father and son were in the store. When the little boy started speaking Arabic, I burst out crying again. Right at that moment, there were people across the street angry at the very existence of this beautiful child. What is wrong with people? How can you look at another human being and feel like they don’t have a right to exist? It hurts. It hurts every bit as much as losing my grandmother because nobody should be told who they are is wrong or evil or a burden.
I know that feeling, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone… especially not a little child.
For every bit of grief, there’s something just beyond the veil that is the waiting to be released and it is real and it can be harnessed.
Richard, Shellby and I will spend July 1st doing tourist attractions at Pier 39. I haven’t done Pier 39 since 1998 with my father’s father and step-mother a mere 7 months before she died unexpectedly.
I need people. I’ve spent a great many years trying to prove to myself that I can be alone, and I can but I will always be forever incomplete without friends.