This is drugs. This is your brain on drugs. This is your brain after The Funeral...someone please give me some drugs

I had gone into the death/funeral extravaganza fully prepared, I thought. I kept my defenses up, stayed pleasant and at times hilarious. Diligently doing all things asked of me. Then we buried poor grandma and it was all over.
Everyone went home.
I didn't know what to do with myself. There was no way I was going home...to be alone...with my thoughts. So I did what any good Irishman would do and went out to my favourite pub to toast my dead grandmother...for almost 8 hours. I spent the next day in bed, not caring about anything.

I stand in the shower for ages now. Soaking up the heat. It's the closest thing I have to affection these days that doesn't involve hugging a cat. Desperate to wash away my pain. Mumford & Sons in the CD player. Leaning against the wall, staring at my hands, silently  scream crying over misspent time and lost opportunity. Anger and sadness constantly circling each other fighting for dominance.

It SUCKS that I wasn't a better granddaughter. It SUCKS that my gram and I didn't have a special bond. It SUCKS that I didn't spend more time with her when she needed it most. It SUCKS that no one thought that family was important. It SUCKS that I have no one to share in my grief. These things make me sad and angry. Whatever. As my friend K pointed out, death just plain SUCKS!

So I will keep being sad and angry for as long as I have to. I will keep listening to Mumford & Sons. I will keep watching movies. I will paint. I will write. I will do laundry. I will hug my cats. I will love my Kid. And soon I will no longer hurt.