I’m sitting in a modest, split-level office. A kindly Indian woman took my name and shakes her hair before she answers the phone. I filled out the new patient forms and let her scan my insurance card. Then, I wait.
The past 24 hours have been pretty intense. I’m a person who tries to avoid tense, awkward situations. That’s why I avoided talking to my father for the past 5 years. Yes, 5 years. But, my grandmother, his mother, died (see: I’m Bad at Life). And, I needed to deal with that.
When I found out, I didn’t. I didn’t call, I didn’t text back, I just…didn’t. Dealing with a death is something no one wants to do. Compounded with reconnecting with one’s estranged father…WOOF.
I drove with my other grandma about 200 miles south to the funeral at 8:30 am. My new car is a dream. The Civ glided through the picturesque roads while Grandma quipped every 90 seconds if I went more than two miles per hour over the 70mph speed limit. “We’re okay, lady!” I responded, slowing down to 72.
There are landmarks I look for when I go to that place; a giant Jesus figure on the side of the highway for one. “The giant Jesus!” I shouted, excitedly. A stone monstrosity, arms outstretched, almost 30 feet high. It let me know I’m about an hour away.
I was racked with guilt and anxiety. More than you can understand. And suddenly, when I walked into the church, it was like I was punched in the fucking heart. I saw my grandmother, laying in a casket, looking frail like a baby bird. I lost my shit. I cried harder and fell into my father’s arms. There was a line of people behind me but I didn’t care. I couldn’t handle seeing her, so small, so…dead.
The service itself was uneventful but respectful. My grandmother was a very religious woman so the service was basic and pious. My father read the remarks and sang (which was a bit odd, but whatever…). I felt I couldn’t react or smile. I shook a bit and tried to engage but I thought multiple times about bolting from the seat. Good thing I wasn’t on an aisle seat!
I kind of want to block out the events but I can’t and I shouldn’t. I don’t want to feel traumatized but I can’t really get the feeling of guilt and sadness out of my mind. But, it’s the grieving process. It doesn’t go away in a day. I haven’t cried today; I cried enough yesterday for the remainder of 2015!
I think things will go well. I’m going to start a new antidepressant tonight after meeting and consulting with a new psychiatrist. I’m having a positive attitude toward things. I have good people in my corner. I’m hanging in there, guys!