I’m really worried about her. It’s not often I have to take over and “be the parent” but I felt sorta like I was dealing with a child a little while ago. She was trying to try on a blouse and pants that she bought for the funeral. And she just started to get mad and I had to stop her from just tearing the blouse off. She’s frustrated. She said “I don’t want to say goodbye…” she said it with such anguish I just wanted to ball. After Nanny died she was devastated. She got so depressed I was scared she’d do something. Then she just kinda gave up after a bit. These last few months are the first in a long time I’ve seen her be lively. And I’m scared it’s gonna happen again. Aunt Marge is Nanny’s sister. So mom’s mom’s sister. Mom’s aunt and my great aunt. I knew her fairly well but my brother new her a bit better. He’d not dealing well either. He deals with death by being angry and violent. He hit my mom today. Not hard but only because I said “don’t you dare!” as he was doing it. If I hadn’t have been there I don’t know what would have happened.

She’s not doing good. She’s so upset. She said it was like loosing her mom all over again. Aunt Marge was her favorite aunt. She loved her so much. I had to basically undress her from the funeral clothes and put a nightgown on her she was crying so hard. It’s hard. I haven’t yet cried at all. The closest I came was when Bethany asked me how I was doing yesterday. She asked if I was finding it hard. I looked up at her and there was tears in my eyes and she said “Ohh hun” but I said I was fine. Ok so I’m crying now…

God it hurts. And it’s not just aunt Marge. It’s everything. It’s Nanny and Grampy Raymond, Grammy and Grampy Adam, Uncle Joe, Aunt Marge, Jordan (my cousin who was only 10… so was I), Dot (another cousin), Jerry (foster Uncle), Tricia (best friend), Stephanie (friend and school chum) and everyone I’ve ever buried. There is just to many to name. I’ve been to more funerals then weddings. Actually I’ve only been to one wedding. That was my cousins. Sean and Bonita. Who’ve since split up. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of funerals. I can’t even count the number of funerals I’ve been too, not counting ones I’ve missed… looking back I can remember like 8 since I was 15. And those are just ones I can remember. That not counting ones I’ve missed or not been able to go to or have forgotten and there is probably the same amount of them so like 12-14 since I was 15? Like 12-14 in 10 years… does that sound like a lot to anyone? Or is that normal?

My brother is another case all together. He just can’t deal. He goes from crying his poor little heart out to violently acting out his rage at them “leaving him”. Mom, Dad and I talked a bit about his anger today. Mom talked to a girl she works with that is in psychology in school and she said she has a cousin that adopted a child when he was about 1 and he never really “connected” with them and acted out his rage over being adopted and “given away” by his mother. Mom wonders if that might be some of it. We never thought much about it before. I guess we should have. We just took it for granted that he felt part of the family. Maybe he doesn’t? Fuck if that’s the case maybe I’m partly to blame… I love him. If people ever said something negative about him being adopted I’d get right pissed. You’d never have dared say something like “he’s not really your brother he’s just adopted” around me in school. As some of my friends and school aquintances found out I’d beat the living shit out of you if you did. He was my brother and it’s that simple. And it is that simple. I’ve never though of him as being “adopted” or different. Not in my mind anyways…. but was I giving him the impression that he was different? I don’t know. I don’t think so… but maybe something I said in the heat of the moment made him think that?

My parents have given that child the world. We aren’t rich. We have our share of problems. My family is in no way perfect but we have one thing in abundance. Love. We really truly love each other. I used to think it’s all that mattered. My parents loved me and they loved him and that made the world right. Now I know better. Maybe he’s just known all along? Maybe I’m just naive? Love isn’t everything. The world still can be a cruel place. Maybe he felt that earlier on? I was blissfully unaware till I was about 12. I had only lost my great Grammy when I was 5 which I was heart broken but I was a child I got over it. Then when I was 10 and in Germany my cousin Jordan was hit by a car and killed and my dad went to Iraq at about the same time. But he came back ok and other then seeing a psychiatrist on base which was required for all children and spouses of people sent overseas (well technically since we were also overseas it wasn’t overseas for us but we still called it that). Then at 12 it all fell apart. It started with something I am not going to get into. And it just went from there. It seems like since then there has been like 1-2 deaths a year. And other events which in themselves would throw anyone for a loop but they seemed to keep happening to us one after the other and when adding it all together it just seemed so wrong and unfair. But am I just being ridiculous? Everyone has to deal with unpleasant stuff. It’s part of life. And I feel like I’m complaining when I have no right to complain. I have a roof over my head (even if it’s not mine) and food in my mouth (and again it’s not mine) and money sometimes (which is mine… but feels like it shouldn’t be, like I don’t deserve it..) so why am I complaining. Why do I always find something to complain about?

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