Haunting Decisions.

I was watching youtube videos until about 1:30 AM this morning. Then I got in bed, dug around in the huge back of the 15 books I bought the other day and grabbed a book called I Heart You, You Haunt Me. Its a book about a girl who's boyfriend dies, and then he stays with her past his death. I thought it was going to be a deep, but warm and fuzzy afternoon read. Needless to say, I was very wrong. First off, it wasn't even a novel. It was one of those "verse books", aka the books that look pretty sizable and you're looking forward to attacking the 250 or so pages, until you crack it open and SURPRISE! There's only around 20 words a page! (This is actually the second time in four days I've been startled with a verse book.) Anyways, I started reading it, and I immediately began relating to it. And the impact was really huge with how much poetry, song lyrics, and all that jazz touch me. Things where every word has purpose is just so...emotional and connecting and....raw. You never get closer to true emotions with words with anything other that closely written media. Anyways, even the first poem in the book hit me. It has to do with how horrible and awkward and uncomfortable it is standing there at a funeral with a line of people all taking turns to tell you all the standard sentiments. "I'm so sorry for your loss." "She was such a nice lady." "Your mother was a strong woman and I see that in you." "I wish I know what to say." You wanna know what to say? The perfect thing to say (to me at least): This sucks, sweetie. And then, you hand me a tissue, and hug me, and let my cry on you for a minute or two. Its actually pretty much what Kaitlin did, now that I think about it. And then, her mom hugged me, her dad put his hand on my shoulder for a second or two, and then we sat in the back corner of the reception hall at the church where everyone was quietly drinking punch and Kaitlin told me about how I wouldn't think Josh was cute when I got "home" because he started wearing his hair short. That's when it hit that at that moment, I didn't have a place to call home. Mom's funeral in Davis was literally the 1/2 way point break of our drive from Reno to Belmont in the process of moving. I started to wonder if I could ever call a place home again, without Mom living there too, and you guessed it, I started crying again. Then we just kinda sat there and cried together, until it was time to leave. It was actually really therapeutic and peaceful. But then, walking to the car to wait for Dad, Grandma showed up in the parking lot like "funeral followed by a reception in the hall' equated to "hey! it's a fucking party!" and I got really pissed off. I swear, if I had the ability to hate, I'd hate my Grandma. But, as it is that I can't, I only really really don't like her and want her to leave me alone forever as much as you can towards a family member. I know at least one of you reading this can understand that sentiment. Holy shit. I have digressed a lot. What the hell was I even talking about? Oh yeah. Thank you magical powers of my scroll wheel. I'm sorry for going off on that tangent about my mom's funeral. Well, that was actually very therapeutic for me, so I guess I'm not actually all that sorry. But, if you cried reading it (like I cried typing it) I really am deeply sorry. Although, we just previously discussed how being sorry doesn't really make much better, so I will do what I can to make you laugh. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! OH MY GOD! IT'S A SWIMMING POOL!!! AND WHAT'S THIS?? THERE'S A SAILBOAT IN THE POOL?? WE ARE FUGGING GOOD TO GO! I'm now realizing that that either made you laugh, or really disturbed you. I could delete it to make sure that no one becomes scarred for life with the mental images that that could have induced, but I think its funny as hell, so I'm keeping it. Tough nuggets, its my blog. Sorry. I did just steal a phrase from my mom. Pseudo-swearing that isn't actually anything close to swearing (ex: Fudge! or Sugarfoot!) were kinda my mom's thing. I had actually forgotten about that. Thank you, for helping me find a piece of my mom that I had lost. If it weren't for you reading this, I wouldn't write this much. So really, truly and deeply thank you. Mom is kind of a puzzle for me now. Except this puzzle doesn't have pieces that you have to make go together, they're pieces you have to find. And there's no picture to follow. And this puzzle actually matters, its not some sort of passing fancy. But here's the issue I still haven't been able to decide on. I don't know if when I finish the puzzle (or come close enough) to scoop it all up and put it back in the box and get it buried somewhere in the garage until I find it on accident later or to frame it, and hang it in the living room. But, because I started the puzzle, I have to reach the finish. I can't just put it all in the box now if I wanted to. (If you don't follow the metaphor, work on it. You'll get it. Actually, maybe not. My mind is all jumbly*.) See, every one's natural reaction to this would be "Jennifer, you should remember your mom. She was a huge part of your life. She made your life. The least you can do is remember her and keep her as a part of your life". I understand that. I understand how messed up it would appear to even be contemplating forgetting about her on the surface. But here's the thing that most people don't realize. To constantly be remembering a deceased loved one is completely debilitating. Its impossible to live your life with the shadow of a person following you. That actually becomes the premise of the whole book I was talking about, if you still remember that. (Whoa. I made a full circle on accident! yay for nonpremptive awesomeness!) But anyways, its so hard and confusing living with a dead person in your brain. You get caught up in thoughts like: What would she think of me saying something like that? Or sometimes something even worse like: Ohfrigg. I just kissed a boy. What would my mother say? Or what's even more fun is: Was that is tongue on my lip? I'm not sure if I should giggle or get grossed out. I don't really have an emotional reaction to tha...FUCK! What the hell would Mom think?? Shit, I swore mentally while thinking about her. I KEEP SCREWING UP! Yeah, you, or at least I, get totally caught up in trying to judge their reactions to situations, what they would have said, or if they liked that movie. I get it, I'm crazy but this is my issue. She gave me life. Should I keep her in my life and not live a full life because I'm afraid of her reacting to everything I say and do, or should I let her slip for extended periods of time like it normally does unless I fight it and live the complete happy life that she always wanted for me? I mean, she sacrificed a lot for me to have a happier life. Like, the surgery to remove the tumor due to not responding to the other treatments even though the cancer would probably come back. Yeah, she did that so she could hold on a little bit longer to be with me and I'm guessing to make sure that I was older when she died so I might handle it a bit better. Honestly, her 10 or so hours of surgery gave me the happiest three months of my life. And I mean, those three months consisted of the most common and unexciting shit possible. The first thing we did when she was deemed well enough to drive again? We went to Target. I'm pretty sure that we got some Tide HE and some Fancy Feast. Well, knowing us, that's what we went in for, and we ended up leaving the store with $200 or more of stuff we didn't really need, but decided we did when we saw it in the store. And then, we went and split a Razzmatazz and watched the sunset. Just like we would when I was little. Well, the sunset watching part came as I got a little older and grew out of that childhood ADD thing that every kid has. But splitting a Razzmatazz was her way to say goodbye to me before she had to go work at the hospital. And during the summers when I didn't have school, Dad would drop me off at the hospital instead of the school on the 'Mommy Work Days' and we would walk in, Donna was usually the one to talk me behind the desk of the Nursing Station and I'd wave byebye to my dad and then I'd steal some paper from the printer and grab my stash of crayons and color while Mom said goodbye to her patients and changed out of her scrubs. She never left without saying goodbye to them. Its probably part of why all of her patients liked her so much. But then, we'd go to the gift store and get a box of Junior Mints and sit on the 'Mommy and Munchkin Bench' and eat them all. And we always split the last one. No joke. She would bite off half, eat it, and then hand me the other half. Anyways, back to that one Jamba Juice trip. I saw something reserved in her eyes. Like something very dark and sad was being hidden. I didn't understand then why she could possibly be sad when we were doing something we hadn't done in around four years. I was elated. Now, I realize that she most likely knew this was the last time we would ever sit watch the sunset together counting the banana chunks that clogged up the straw. One time I asked my Aunt Debbie how mom could have had all these moments with me that were incredibly sad without crying. Aunt Debbie just kinda shook her head, like there was something elephant sized that I was missing almost comically, then looked at me dead serious and said, "Love". Yeah yeah yeah, we both know she totally ripped off Dumbles from the first Harry Potter movie. We actually giggled about it, before we went back to talking. I had asked her the Christmas of the year Mom died. I know what that elephant sized thing was now. She loved me so much, she could keep back the tears to keep me happy. Jesus. I have no idea how she could physically pull something off like that. I mean, if I'm trying to not cry to protect someone, I always let at least three tears roll, before I can wipe them away and pull it together. Like, holly shit, either she had the ability to turn off her tear ducts with her mind or something like that, or she loved me with more love then I've ever seen a person love someone any other point in my life. Granted, I'm only fourteen, but shit. I feel extremely self oriented and conceited even listing that as a possibility, so I really want you all to know that I say that in credit to my mother, not trying to make myself look like some angel daughter. Anyways, my mom must have been like a friggen superwoman. I only saw her cry four times in the two years we knew that she had cancer. When she told me she had cancer, two fights with my dad (once out of frustration, once out of raw anger. she wasn't susceptible to my dad's assholeishness at all), and when she told me the cancer was going to kill her. Litter ally, what the hell was my mom doing raising me instead of...like, going back in time and stopping Hitler or something. I swear to God, she should have gotten on that instead of wasting her time on me. But really, with all of this can I let myself forget her? I'm torn between what she deserves and what she would have wanted. Wait, maybe I'm assuming too much about her. Maybe she's in some form of afterlife right now all "Sugarfoot! Why the fudge would I want her to forget about me in order to live a happier life? I did so much for her, I deserve some recognition, some return of the favor. Hey kid, where's my kudos?"

Anyways. I'm done babbling bits of us less pieces of my life's story at you. I'm sorry you read of all of it if you did, and I'm even more sorry if you were expecting it to get good at some point. But what do sorrys do? So here, have some more of this. AHHHH! MASTS! I'M GETTIN' IT ON ON A BOAT! AHHHHH! SWIMMING POOLS!!! AHHHH BECAUSE I'M WEIRD LIKE THAT!! Hope that made you crack a smile at least, because it kinda makes me laugh hysterically. (That is, when I'm not in the mood. jkjk. I'm just playing with all the tones that can be created with italics.) Alright. Have a good rest of your day, afternoon, evening, night. (only read which one applies to what time you are reading this.) This is kinda weird. I think this is the first time I've written directly to you, but for me. That's roundabout. And very narcissistic actually. xP

TTFN!

*the word "jumbly" is to be pronounced all funny and lip bubbly. Like how I did it while setting up the memory game in stringfield's class. christine, you know what i'm talking about, eh?

**HOLY SWEET GODDAMN! No, you didn't leave your cello in my basement, this post is just like...freaking long!! (did you get my reference/quote? eh? -eyebrowwiggle-)