Where is it coming from?

I have been wracking my brain, trying to figure out what makes me so mad about religious people, and their perception of death.

I follow a Facebook page called Grief Beyond Belief. So many of the comments are about how mad it makes people when someone says things like "God's will", etc. It is very clear that it is not just me. This blog has really helped with my anger issues, but I am still not over it, so I will try once again to express it.

From my perspective, people that truly believe in God, and Jesus, really believe that there is a heaven. There really is a place dead people go. And they will get to see them again. Therefore, they can almost be happy about someone dying. How lucky the dead person is because he/she gets to meet Jesus. Lucky because they get to see their mothers and fathers again. They are not really dead, they are just in a place that we cannot communicate with them any longer.

Also, because it is "God's plan", there is nothing to feel sad about. God loves them, and will only do what is best. Do religious people feel guilty if they don't want their father to be dead? How do they reconcile their own wants? Is praying really comforting? Does it really ease the pain? In prayer, do you get to "give your pain to Jesus" so you no longer feel it? How in the hell can that possibly work?

Someone wrote that both of my grandmothers, as well as one grandfather were part of the "welcoming committee", and that gave her great comfort in light of Daddy's death. I can hardly say that sentence with a straight face. That is straight out of LaLa Land. There is absolutely no basis in reality in that statement. I just cannot understand having blind faith in something.

If we are such small inconsequential beings, why would God even bother to put us here? Just to fuck with us? Really? It reminds me of the Stephen King novel - Under the Dome. Just some big experiment. Are we really only pawns in the big game of life? I think not.

I think religious people cannot face the real pain. They can only look up, they cannot look inside of themselves. Because they are only looking up, towards heaven, they cannot see other people and their pain. That certainly seems to be the case in my life. If you really believe in Jesus, how can you not take other people's feelings into account. HOW?  I will admit that I have never read the Bible. I have tried, twice. I could never get past the chapter on so-and-so begate so-and-so, and on, and on, and on, for pages. I have always given it up at that point. But isn't one of the "lessons" is to "Love thy neighbor"? Doesn't that mean to take other people feelings into account? I try to do that. This particular religious person I'm thinking about is entitled to believe whatever/however she wants. No problem. I don't care how she handles Daddy's death. But I have asked her in the past to not preach to me. And she still continues to do it. I didn't ask her to stop believing. I simply told her I didn't want to hear it. But, she cannot help herself, I guess. All she can do is look up to heaven, and cannot see what she is doing to the people that are left here. 

The only comfort I can see in John and Daddy's death, is that is what is supposed to happen. Our bodies are finite things. They wear out. A human body will never last forever. End of.

I guess when I hear stuff about "God's plan", it feels like, me, as a person, doesn't even matter. If I don't matter, why am I even alive? Answer me that, please.

When Daddy was in the hospital, his wife convinced him it was time to die. (It wasn't. He still had the choice to fight and live even a few more months.) She has never been able to explain to us what exactly happened that made her think that. She is either not able to tell us, or not willing to tell us. So, I can only come to my own conclusions. I conclude that Daddy was going to be too sick. He was going to have to go to dialysis regularly for the little bit of time he had left. And that was too much for her. She was not going to be able to handle it, and because of that, and because she thinks he was going to heaven, she was ready to give him to Jesus to take care of. I am talking about a human being. She convinced her husband, a human being, to die, because it was going to be too much for her to take care of. Her husband, the "love of her life", my FATHER, was too much for her to take care of. She didn't ask us to take care of him. We would have. We would have given him the choice to fight and live a little longer, or choose to stop fighting. That is love.

I will never forgive her. Never. And because she is religious, I will never be religious. If that is what it means to "believe", I will never do it. I will NEVER knowingly convince someone to die.

I do believe that we are all just doing our best. She was only doing her best. When John died, I was doing my best. There are an unlimited number of things I would have done differently if I would have known what the end result was going to be. Daddy's wife was only doing her best. BUT, her best is so piss poor, it is astounding. Her best is so amazing low, it is incredible. Her best is so bad, I can't even believe it. I cannot believe that a person can be THAT weak and selfish. To me, those are the kind of people that need religion. They NEED it because they are so incompetent at being human.

Proof that there is no God - Daddy is dead and she is still alive.

I would love to write some of the stupid shit she said to us in the hospital. How she sat there at night, when we had all left, and talked to Daddy about how we were treating her. How bad we were treating her. I cannot go into that right now. I am trying to get rid of anger, and that only feeds it.

If you know "God" talk makes me mad, don't talk to me about "God". That is "ungod-ly." If you cannot talk to me without talking about "God", just don't talk to me at all. END OF!

I can't even think of a title, I'm so mad.

I'm at a VERY low point today. I have a toothache, which meant I hardly slept at all last night. Tried to nap today, and I feel like every fiber of my being was clinched in my jaws. Now every tooth in my mouth is hurting. I wish I was a snake and could unhinge my lower jaw and stretch it out.

Today I watched the slide show of Daddy's ashes being spread. Calming and very painful at the same time. The summit of Mt. Ida has the biggest view I have ever seen. No wonder Daddy wanted to be spread there. It really does look like the top of the world. There was wildlife and wild flowers. Beautiful. Two pictures actually showed the ashes in the air as Larry threw them. Good bye Daddy. This is what he wanted and I am very grateful that Larry was the one to spread them. Perfect homage. I would post a picture, but that means I would have to look at them again and I can't do that right now.

I received a message from Daddy's sister yesterday. First of all, it was on my Facebook page One Less Victim. This is a non-profit company Daddy, Jes, and I started. Key word - company. Not personal, nor a hobby, but a state registered company. I have blocked her from Facebook because my anger flairs when I see her talking about Daddy and God. So, she cannot get a message to me on Facebook, without going through my One Less Victim page. However, she has my e-mail address, as well as my phone number. Since she is blocked, I cannot respond to her messages via Facebook.

This message talks about her mother, and my mother's mother being Daddy's "welcoming committee", and how strong they were, and how much they (my grandmother's) loved me. She said Daddy's birthday was still hard though. She also said she hoped this did not make me angry, but she was using this as her "mini-blog".  There was nothing in her message about us, as far as how we are doing. No concern shown at all that we may have had a hard time that day. Her only concern is that her religion would make me mad. NO!! What makes me mad is the lack of sensitivity towards us. Fine, she is grieving her way. Fine, whatever she has to do. BUT, do we not count at all because we don't have the same belief? Why in the hell should I have to listen to how she handled Daddy's birthday, without one thought about us? WTF????? Shared grief has to be give and take. I'm not just here to listen to how other people feel. I need help too. DO NOT COME LOOKING TO ME FOR SYMPATHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You will not get it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am not able to freely give sympathy at this point. I may be able to in the future, because I have in the past. But at this time in my life, I do not have any sympathy for anyone that is one-sided. If I am not receiving sympathy, I am not giving it. You first!

On January 20 2012, my heart was shattered. On March 13, 2012, my broken heart was stomped on. If you are not giving me a  hand up, a helping hand, I cannot reach you. I am doing every thing I can to pick myself up. Any additional weight is too much.

I do not know how to express this anger any other way. It sounds irrational, almost hysterical, super dramatic. I can't help it. I am trying to express it, but it feels like I can't express it. I cannot find the right words. Maybe there are so many words, and so many ways to express it, that I have to tell this over, and over, and over, in many different ways.

My knickers are in a twist.

ACKNOWLEDGE MY PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Emotions

Well, I've been going through some emotions lately. Surprise, surprise. I don't even know where to start, so I guess I will try to just go in the order that they happened.

Driving back to Texas from Louisiana, MO, I always have my MP3 player in my ears. And I get to listen and think. I cried a lot on the drive. The most painful thought was why did these awful things happen to the team that was John and Suzy? How can so much bad luck happen to one couple? Why us? We are good people, why us? The worst bad thing is John dying. How can something so awful happen to him? He was "good people". Why did he have to die at the young age of 62? WHY? He didn't deserve that. How/why can one person have such bad luck? The second bad thing, that happened to Team John and Suzy, is the one that is left alone, me. Why? Why me? Why does this bad thing have to happen to me? Life is so fucking unfair!!! It is just so sad. John was "GOOD PEOPLE"! Why did this have to happen to us???? We were a team!!! Why break up a good team?

The opening ceremonies of the Olympics was also emotional since John is from England. Luckily, I got to go to England with John twice. I got to see where he grew up, where he played, where he fished, where he learned to drive, where he smoked cigs on the way to school, the bedroom he grew up in, the butcher shop next door. I got to see him spend quality time with his mother, I got to see him and his sisters together, I got to see his extended family gathered together. Thanks to Julie and John, (John's sister and brother-in-law) we got to spend a few days in London. I got to personally see most of the famous sights in London, the ones they like showing on television. I have been on a train, on the subway, on the "highways", on the local streets. I have seen Buckingham Palace, the Eye, that bridge that the Olympic rings are hanging from, the Shakespeare theater. I have been in the beautiful countryside, and in the House of Parliament, and in a 15th century church. I got to see and experience all of these things because of John and his loving family. John was born the year after the second London Olympics, and died the year of the third London Olympics. When Paul McCartney sang the first words of "Hey Jude", I lost it. I didn't even get to hear half of the song. During the whole show, I kept thinking how much fun it would have been to be watching this with John. How much he would have loved it. How proud he would have been of his home.

And yesterday was Daddy's birthday. We got a package in the mail from Daddy's friend Larry. Daddy had asked Larry to spread his ashes on the summit of Mt. Ida. On July 13, 2012, Larry did it. Larry was kind enough to send a written summary of the day, and of their friendship. He included a CD of pictures. I have read the beautiful writing, but haven't yet been able to look at the pictures. And since yesterday was Daddy's birthday, two pictures of him have shown up on my Facebook newsfeed. Although the pictures are great to look at, unfortunately, they are attached to his wife's page. I thought I was getting over my anger, but, I see her name, and can't even appreciate the pictures. I am so sorry that his memory is tainted by my anger. I don't know what to do about that. I wish I knew. I wish I could get passed the anger.

So, there you go. Poor little me.

The Present

I just read the book "The Present" by Spencer Johnson.

Daddy was always giving us self-help books. I say "always", but it wasn't always. It was really after he left Mom, or after we grew up. Those things happened pretty much together, I guess. When he left Mom, we were mostly grown up. At least grown-up enough to only go back for either advice or money. (Parental lesson there. Obvious to anyone with adult children.)

But I digress. Actually, I don't digress, I just let my mind wander.

Anyway, I am back home in Louisiana. I have a few reasons for coming "home". To pick up furniture. To be alone. To focus. To think. To mourn. To reflect. To learn. To pay attention. To rest.

I'm doing the typical hiding in the bedroom thing, eating what I can find in the kitchen. The only light on, in the house, is in the bedroom. I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to see people. And I don't want to see or do things that John and I used to share. I don't want to face the future without him. This fucking sucks! But, I have to go out because I am almost out of cigarettes. See the irony? I have to go out of the house to get the thing that will eventually kill me, therefore, I am forced to face life. Ying Yang.

I have been home almost 24 hours, and I just got my suitcase out of the truck.

Next to my bed are bookshelves. I picked up a easily read detective book, and read the whole thing this mourning. And I found a little book Daddy gave me. He always wrote a short message on the inside cover. He apparently gave me "The Present" for Christmas 2003. It made me cry seeing his hand-writing.

I don't want to be doing this fucking grief shit! I want to be four years old and pitch a big fucking fit and get away without have to do it. Or just express my energy and be able to focus and get it done.

My four-year-old self needs a nap.

I love you, Daddy and John!

I'm off to see the Wizard

Toto, where shall I go? What shall I do? (Maybe I'm thinking of Scarlet O'hare in Gone with the Wind. I'm getting my classic movies mixed up, and showing my age.) I'm off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Why is that going through my head? Because I am lost. It struck me that I am over the "acute" phase of grief. Today is 6 months since John passed away. (That is the first time I have used the term "passed away".) No wonder I feel sad. Tears are bubbling up and I'm not sure if I can contain them. I don't really cry much, but I never really have. I'm a tough old boot. Even though I think it would be cleansing to cry, it is hard to get there. We watched a movie the other night, and I started crying half way through, and continued until the movie was over. Why is it easier to cry at a movie?

Today is my sister's birthday. That makes me feel like crying too. Daddy is gone, John is gone, but the birthdays, holidays, life events just keep on coming. Life is just sad today.

Back to the Wizard. I love traveling. And, I'm lost now. In a split second, my future changed. No warning, no preparation, blind-sided. I was supposed to get to travel with John. We thought we would get an RV and wonder around the U.S. That was the plan. Damn. So, now I get to do it by myself. And by "get", I mean that totally sarcastically. We were such a good team! Wondering around the U.S. together would have been amazing. I would have dragged him to museums, hiking trails, lakes, botanical gardens, etc. John was a much more experienced traveler and would have given me courage to try new places and new things. He was much more of a "people person" than me, and a lot more courageous in trying new food. He was also very "street smart". That seems very helpful when traveling. And of course, two heads are always better than one. But, he is gone. I hope he is okay. I worry about that. Stupid, I know.

So, now, instead of getting to be part of a team, I get to do it alone. I am standing at a fork in the road, and I am having trouble figuring out which fork to take. I want to get lost and find my way. The magical wizard is out there and I will find him, or die trying. That is the only thing I have left to fear, dying myself, but that is for another post.

If I write my plans on this blog, I am one step closer to turning the plan into action. So here goes....

Tonight, we are going out to celebrate Pat's birthday. My plan is to leave for Louisiana (home, sort of home) on Monday and come back with our beds and a couple of pieces of furniture we need here, in my other home. After that, away I go!!!!!!!!!! I want to get John's CB installed in the truck, and get a camper shell. I do not want to be staying in hotels every night. I really want to be closer to nature than that, so camping sounds delicious. My first destination will be Mount Rushmore. When trucking, we got within 30 miles of Mount Rushmore, but you cannot take an 70' truck sight-seeing. From South Dakota, I plan to continue west to Washington State. I want to see the Mount St. Helen museum and western Oregon is beautiful! I have only been to Canada once, so, north to Vancouver and since I will be that close, on to Alaska. The Grand Canyon is also something we got close to in the truck, but never got to see, so my plan is to travel south from Alaska, through Northern California, east to Nevada, then south to the Grand Canyon. If I haven't found the wizard by then, I want to explore the Gulf Coast all the way through the Florida Keys. If I still haven't found the wizard (and have managed to earn money somehow), the next desired destination is Europe!

Okay, I actually feel better now. Thank you for listening.

I am still mad

*Warning - strong, foul language*



I apparently still have anger issues. I thought I was working my way through them. And, I am, I guess. I'm not as angry as I was (good thing), but little things set me off.

We live on the bottom floor of an apartment complex. I was trying to take a nap yesterday and the kid that lives upstairs was making so much fucking noise our sliding glass door was rattling. Now, I like kids. It is summer, kids are home, bored, playing, being kids basically. But DAMN! I feel like I got irrationally mad. Good thing I have some manners and didn't say anything. He was just being a kid.

Today, I was walking to the post office. I was crossing a street IN THE CROSSWALK and this stupid mother fucker in his big ass pickup truck just kept going! He had to stop and wait for the traffic before turning right, and sat right in front of me, blocking the fucking crosswalk. He wasn't able to turn until after I had already made it across. Now, what would it have hurt for him to wait BEHIND the crosswalk? Don't pedestrians have the right of way? Stupid red-neck tattooed asshole. (I'm not insulting tattooed people, really. I have two tats myself.)

So, two days, two happenings that just got me going. WTF? I'm not usually so irritable.

What I am really mad at right now is.....John fucking DIED! He fucking DIED! Why couldn't he just get really sick? Why did it have to be so bad that he died? Why???????????????????? Why did he have to fucking die?

Why do I have to go through grief? I'm basically a good person. Last night was group grief therapy. I was mad and didn't go. Why do I have be going on the grief journey? It is not fucking FAIR!!!!! I don't want to do it anymore!

Life just fucking sucks!

Do you ever just feel like beating the living shit out of something?

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK (of course that is underlined in red, it must be spelled wrong.)

Okay. There is not one goddamned thing I can do about it. Just fucking try to think about something else. Let the anger just sit there and simmer. And yes, I have tried to walk it out. Nature is supposed to be so calming. Well, I just got back from a walk - it didn't help.

One more question - why do good people have to die, and bad ones get to live?

John

I almost picked up the phone to call you a few nights ago. That was the first time that has happened. What I wouldn't give to be able to call you. What were you doing Sunday night? What is it like to be dead?

I finally got the results of the autopsy. I feel like I have been holding my breath all this time. The waiting is over. I was so torn between wanting to know, and not wanting to know. The next step is to absorb the details of the report. I haven't even looked at it yet. Just knowing it is there is a good thing. Betsy read it, and gave me her first impression. I am so relieved that it seemed to be more of a "natural cause", than the fault of someone else. That would have been intolerable.

Betsy said she is glad you didn't know how bad your heart was. She called it "old people disease". You would have hated having it, with every fiber of your being. In a strange way, I'm glad you didn't know too. On one hand, if you had known, you could have done more about it. On the other hand, if you had known, you would have had to do more about it. What would you like? To eat all the tacos and pico de gallo you want, or to have to diet and exercise all the time? Would you not have been a truck driver? Would you have rather gone the safe route and gotten some dumb job in Louisiana that you hated? Are you sorry you died, or is it OK to be dead? I almost want to die myself, just to see what you are doing. Just to be with you again. (Don't worry, readers. I'm not going to intentionally die.)

Anyway, I love you Bubbles. I still do, and I always will. You showed me what a good husband is. You showed me what a good man is. You showed me what a good person is. You showed me what a good life is.

The tears are finally able to flow more freely.