More Stuff In My Head

I’m angry.  I’m angry at Nana.  And I only just discovered this a few days ago.  Yet it’s a paradox-ic-like anger.

She went into the hospital because she broke her hip.  And she died because of the pneumonia she contracted while in the hospital, being constantly sedated and on her back.  Yet, she never would have made it into the hospital with a fractured hip if she’d used the stupid walker that was there for her to get around with!  If she hadn’t been so stubborn about wanting her independence, then she’d still be here.  I could go up and see her.  I could plant flowers for her like I said I would this entire damn summer.

Yet, I don’t know.  Something tells me it was her time.  And it’s a paradox-ic anger because I would’ve done the same thing.  I wouldn’t have wanted to admit that I couldn’t be independent.  I wouldn’t have used a walker either, even if I should have, even if I needed it.  So how can I be mad at her for something when, if faced with the same choice, I’d have made the same decision she did?

Just because of the five minutes or so that Nana’s in them, I’ve been watching the Christmas party tapes when I was five and six for the past week or so.  I started wondering tonight . . . what happened to that little girl?  That girl who had no cares in the world, except for what she would have her Maple Town figures do that night.  That little girl who carried her Teddy Ruxpin around everywhere.  That litle girl who’s only job was to play, to be happy, and to sing Jinle Bells for Grandma and Grandpa.

Now "Grandma and Grandpa" is only Grandma.  Fred died in 2001. Len and Eileen are divorced.  And I’ve grown from an idealistic little girl with a white flower pinned in her hair who honestly believed she would find a prince charming to sweep her off her feet and that everyone she knew then would live forever, and be in her life for the rest of her life, into . . . whatever the heck I am now.

I know what I am.  Bitter.  Hurt.  Resentful.  Angry.  Depressed.  Someone who has so much to say about all of her "friends," but she doesn’t have the courage.  And either people don’t care, or they’re too afraid to ask.

I thought Nana would be immortal.  I mean, logically, my brain told me one day, she’ll die, but . . . I thought I’d be there, at her bed, able to say goodbye.  Her, able to hold my hand one more time.  Me, able to give her a hug one last time . . .

Damnit, I’m crying again.  I can feel myself getting to a breaking point.  I’m just not sure what I’ll do when I reach it.  Will I start lashing out, writing entries of everything I think of everyone I’m in contact with?  Will I turn inward and just deal with the pain on my own?  God only knows . . .

I wish, on August 18th, that I hadn’t gone out with Shannon and Colleen.  I wish I had just stayed home.  I wish I’d called Dolly back.  I wish I could talk to her now.  She knew Nana.  She loved her.  She cared about her and isn’t afraid to cry with me.  And I think that’s what I need most of all.  It’s ironic.  The three people I need most right now are Dolly, Ryan, and Jason.  Yet I can’t have any of the three of them next to me.  Dolly and Ryan, because they’re in different states, and Jason . . .  heh.  Yeah, right.  Even if he did read this, he wouldn’t come.  He wouldn’t risk ruining his "peace and quiet."  Even though I need him more than almost anyone right now.

I want more than photos.  I want ore than a painting.  I want more than ashes in a box.  Yet, even if the kind of alchemy that Ed and Al do is was real, I wouldn’t risk it.  If Full Metal Alchemist teaches anything, it’s not to mess with the forces of nature that you can’t control.

::Sighs::  I wanna write more, but I should probably go to sleep.  It’s kind of odd that I’ve mapped out my moods this well, isn’t it?  While I’m not sure what’s coming next, I know I can deal with it, because my emotions haven’t gotten ahead of me.  It’s an odd talent, but one I’m thankful to have.

Oh, Dolly?  We’re taping the memorial service, and taking a lot of pictures at the lunch-ish thing in the chapel, so I’ll definitely make you a copy and send it, along with a scan of my painting.

I’m also gonna somehow scan in the painting and post a copy on here when I’m done with it.

Bye.