So it's like, sometimes I feel like I have to challenge my self and sanity to the utmost. It's almost like, I'm torturing myself, for God knows what reasons.
And yet I'm still gonna do it.
So here's the story:
My aunt's father died, and as his funeral is over my spring break, I'm going with my mother and grandparents to his funeral in Cottage Grove next Monday. I don't remember him at all, since I suppose the last time I saw him was when I was a small babe, or so my mum tells me. But I am a firm believer in supporting friends and family in their time of need, and my aunt Dianna is a very fun, sweet woman, and I have spent some time throughout my life with her, so I feel as though I should go to be supportive.
And here's the background:
I have a problem with churches, especially services that really make me think, such as the Passion of Christ, and pretty much any other happy time. And I really have a problem with funerals. All because they bring me back, to Joe, Joe's funeral. The first one, my first taste of death, and my first understanding that we really don't live forever. I knew it always before, but it never hit me until Joe. And now it's like, I test myself, or something. See if I can make it or not.
What the hell is my problem.
Of course, I really do want to be supportive. That's my main goal. But if I were clever, and cared about my health, I wouldn't go, just so that I can stay sane...
But I'm going.
Crazy masochist me.