Galloping Crazies

The last three days were incredibly hard emotionally.  Grieving, mourning, always takes its toll.  And, added to that, was the sheer number of people.  When I say hundreds, I'm not exaggerating.  I had my siblings, my mom, a few little kids, to act as a buffer.  The BFF was on text standby 100% of the time.  Tato, my younger brother, is particularly good at talking me down from a panic attack.  But with all the emotion and then the anxiety...I was wiped.

It didn't help that there are several family members who seem to take great joy in tearing other people down.  I try my damnedest to be a kind and compassionate person.  My mother raised me to be a giving person and I do my best to succeed at that.  And I'm a Pisces.  To be in the midst of all that drama, all that strife, when it should be about mourning and remembering and grieving...

There are people in my extended family who are just crazy.  And not in the fun way.  That, almost more than anything else, was hard to deal with.  I went into the whole thing knowing there may be comments or looks and I steeled myself to behave appropriately.  But sometimes, it was really hard.  They did their best to make me (and some others) feel like I was an interloper, like I had no right to be there.  I wanted to walk up to one of them, tap them on the shoulder,  and when they turned around, scream at them that he was mine!  My uncle, my godfather, and he meant a great deal to me. Not that it would do any good had I done that, they would have just told stories about how awful I had been.  I know that I can't control people's actions, only my reactions to them.  And I know the truth of the matter and that their opinions were wrong.  But still...it was very hard.  I know that I was welcome there, that there were many, many, many people that appreciated me there.  That I was a solid force for some to lean on and gather strength.  And that my uncle was smiling down on us.

Because, there was a lot of the good crazy, too.  Despite the incredibly sad reason we were all gathered, we were all together.  And that meant that the there were children running around and having a good time, and there were stories and catching up and laughter and joy amidst the sorrow.  It was organized chaos as only a gathering with hundreds of family can be.   A little, at times, like herding cats.  Trying to get everybody out the door and where they needed to be at the right time was an exercise in patience.  Those things were crazy and awesome at the same time.

In the end, despite the bad, it was a great big party.  And that, is perhaps, how it should be.  A celebration of life.