Warning heart spillage ahead.

First the good. This is what I am wearing.


 


*sigh* and here is the reality.

OK I warn you this isn't going to be a light and fluffy post. I was crying when I wrote this so excuse me if it goes astray (ah even in my tears I am a total smart ass)

You've been warned.

Today it has been six months. Six months since the man who raised me, my pop (grandfather) passed away. I was already in tears at 8:15am this morning. My friend and coworker said "why is today any harder than yesterday or tomorrow? Why does the time matter" I don't know but it does. It is a neon sign in my brain and it won't stop flashing. 180 days. I woke up and lived my life 180 times without my pop. I miss him so much. I can crying at my desk right now. This is insanely hard for me because I DON"T LIKE TO CRY. It isn't cathartic to me. It isn't something I am allowed to do in my family. Even now at 31 my father yells at me yes YELLS. Stop it Hillary get it together.  He said that the first time I cried in front of him a MONTH after pop passed. I had held out from crying in front of my family until then. Pop was the patriarch of our family. HE WAS IN CHARGE. That is just how it was. No one questioned it. (well my dad and uncle did by being wise as screw ups) how about this I didn't question it. Gram and pop took on their stereotypical roles. Gram cooked, pop ate it. Pop paid the bills, he dealt with eveything. EVERYTHING. The day after he died I assumed the role in command. I started pulling out the papers and I sat in the middle of the living room floor and read every single piece of paper he saved for 53 years of marriage. I organized it all, put it in files, wrote what it all was. I did it because I knew no one else knew how. As a few days passed my dad assumed the role of THE ONE IN CHARGE. He didn't want to do it you could tell. He wanted to just let me keep doing it but I am 80 miles, a state away. Legally there were too many issues so he is doing it all. Which is good, he should, he is eldest son. I am the only girl. I could of done it but it was breaking me down. I went from being the grand daughter whose pop moved heave and earth for to the one calling the car insurance company and fighting with the asshole on the phone. HE IS DEAD take him off the policy! AH! But 6 months on a lot of that is now squared away. My dad handles the daily stuff and I step in when she needs me. I balanced her check book last week. She had it to within a $1.20. I told her how proud I was. She went from never dealing with a single bill to keeping a checkbook balanced. She didn't think she could do it. She can. I knew it and now I think she is knowing it.

I had lost people before but never someone close to me. This has been 6 months of growth, pain and understanding. I am understanding who I am. I am learning what and WHO matters. I have lost a great deal of friends these past 6 months. I am not complaining. It is just a fact of life. People come and go and sadly it takes utter and sheer heartache sometimes to show you who really matters. In my moments of weakness I have reached out to people only to have them ignore it. I don't need them. Simple as that. (Or so I am telling myself) I also have become closer to others. My friend S. While we talked daily before now she is the one I go to when in the middle of the day I am crying because I smelled pop in a stranger. I have learned so much more about gram and pop. I've spent hours and hours sitting and talking with gram. Learning about their marriage and life together. Learning about my uncle w ho passed before I was born. Pop never talked about him. Now he is buried with him. He will keep him company. I have made me routines and it had brought Dave and I closer. I've let him into my brain and thinking more. I usually bottle my sadness up and sit on it until it hurts. But I have told him my irrational thoughts at 2 am when I can't sleep. It brought me closer to my mom. I don't think I am telling too much to say my mom and I weren't the closest the first 30 years of my life. We were too alike and way too close in age and generation. We were the clash of the titans. But that has changed. We are now closer than I could ever of dreamed of. I called her 5 minutes after I got the call about pop and said "I need you here NOW" she got on the computer and was on a flight 8 hours later. While there was nothing for her to do, she was there and I needed it. It was so mind boggling to have my mom and my dad in the same car driving on the same roads I grew up on. They broke up 27 years ago. It taught me that I could ask for help (It is one of my biggest faults. I don't ask for help. I am stubborn and self sufficient. So I say) and she was there. Telling me when I needed to eat a sandwich and giggling with me at the funeral seeing some long lost relatives and friends. I also learned how much people love my family. People came out the woodwork. There were  unmarked cakes and pots of soup on the doorstep. Food keep showing up and no one ever took credit. I know why people give food because the grieving family doesn't think about food and if it weren't for all those donations we probably wouldn't of ate anything. At one point I joked I really could go for something sweet and ding dong no joke a box of pastries was there 5 minutes later. I hope that I can be that person for someone else. Having received it I know how much you appreciate it.

I have moved past the angry stage and the sheer and utter reality has hit me. Only now 6 months on. Yesterday Dave said "it finally hit huh?" knowing that up to know I was in kinda denial. I was just angry and didn't want to admit to it. I still have some thoughts that take my breath away. Such as pop will never meet my children. That one hurts the most. Having pop in your life was like having a guardian angel.He was named pop because of me when I was learning to talk. But EVERYONE called him pop. I mean everyone. My friend, my dad's friends, casual acquaintances. Once pop had grandchildren he stopped being Bob and became pop. It was how he identified himself. I even put pop in the obit and for the funeral. No one knew who Bob was but everyone knew and loved Pop. It was standing room only. There is nothing he wouldn't do for me. Nothing. I was his only girl, his sweetheart. In a weird twist of fate I saw him the day before he died. He said "thank you for coming to see me sweetheart" and I hugged him and KNEW it was the last time. I knew as I let go of his warm strong hand it would be the last time. I didn't say anything to Dave because I thought he would think I was crazy. Hell I thought I was. I know some are wondering. Did we know he was going to die? No we didn't. He was 100% healthy with no health problems, wasn't over weight, weighed what he did when he was 17 in the navy and he has a heart attack that killed him instantly in the middle of sweeping. There was no way I could of known that day. I was supposed to be a baby shower that day but instead went for a drive with Dave and stopped in to see them. We didn't even tell them we were coming.

As shitty as I feel right now. This was cathartic. I apologize for those who are uncomfortable. I warned you. I am real, I feel. This isn't a shiny fashion blog where I just show you my clothes. This is my life, these are my emotions. While I do not share a good portion of my real life sometimes I just need to say something out loud. This was one of those times. I know there are a ton of grammar and spelling mistakes but I am not going back and editing this.