Funerals

My great grandfather killed himself on Tuesday. I went through all of the pain already. The funeral is tomorrow, and I have to go. Why must we grieve twice? The shock and pain have started to pass, why do we bring it up all over again? It’s dumb. But I might as well accept it. There’s no getting out of it. He wasnt even related to me. He was my great grandmothers second husband. Yet he loved me and my family as if we were his own. Suicide hurts. This doesn’t stop me from wanting it, but it really does hurt. I hadnt seen him in a few months. He had Alzheimer’s, and in his last few years he was grumpy and horrible. But it still hurts that he left like this. He hung himself at 3 am on Tuesday morning. I wasnt there. But I can imagine the corpse of the man who loved me, even when he didn’t have to, hanging from the ceiling of his room. I have a vivid imagination. It’s not fun. If I kill myself, I only want it to be in an untramatizing way for whoever it is that has to find me. No blood, no mess, no hanging choked body. That’s part of the reason I’m not gone yet. I considered grabbing the gun from the safe that is ligit 15 steps away from my room, but to have blood and brain matter on the wall for someone to have to clean? That seems cruel. Anyways. This has been a long tangent. I need to (try) to sleep before I cry for several hours tomorrow…