mulling it over
well, seems there's some disagreement in my family over whether there'll be a service/memorial at the cemetery with her ashes for closure. the decision has been made to leave it to the grandchildren. i've been asked to weigh in.
i've tried to decide, and what it comes down to is, I'd like to have one, but if they still want to have a huge reunion in august, i'd rather not fly back twice. i think the same could be said for the cousins, as we are all scattered far and wide, and most with families.
i'll support whichever decision, but i hardly want to be the deciding (or dissenting) vote.
the second part of this that makes me nervous (no matter which time they decide to do it...) is that I would probably want Nala with me. I've often thought I'd be such a mess that I'd need him around. Not that I'd want that to be the way he's introduced to my extended family, sure. But, I wouldnt want him so far away (again) like he was during the goodbye-ing a couple years ago.
My dad is always there for my mom, now. I dont think she'd ever go back alone again. With him, she has an excuse to extricate herself from any crazy badness. He also acts as a voice of reason, sometimes heavy-handedly so, coming from outside the family. One who can break ranks and just say what's really going on.
I worry about needing that. I hate that I need that, but family means so much to me, I dont want to lose what little ties I have by blowing my top or worse.
I'm going to answer that "yes, i think there ought to be SOMEthing so that whomever wants to or needs to, can come. but, i think, if it happens sooner than later, attendance at both that and the family reunion should not be expected. Unless, of course, they become tied together."
I said my goodbye, such that it was, two years ago. Others have not. They thought it was too morbid... that it was wrong to tell her we loved her and say goodbye while she still knew who she was and who we were. She knew there was no turning back. She knew it was time. Others seemed disaffected by the whole thing.
Meanwhile, I sit here, affected. Totally. Affected and conflicted. I care, yet, I'm beyond the weepy wailing that will surely come. Or will it? How is it that my family can remain so stoic about what supposedly are the most sacred of bonds withering away? How is it that I am, externally, but internally I cry?
Am I cold-hearted? Is this the way I'm going to be at every death of a loved one? I keep thinking so. Privately screaming and crying -- publicly the stoic frowner, wondering if any other stoic frowners are just as torn up as me. As we all suffer silently.