My great grandmother died a few days ago. The funeral was yesterday. From the moment I got back home from the UK I had a feeling I’d go to her funeral. Even though she was really old, she was going to be 90 tomorrow, it still hurts. We all know it’s best for her, she couldn’t walk for almost a year, had a stroke a few months ago, broke her hand and all she did was lying in a bed. My grandma and her sisters took care for her and was exhausting for everyone. But I couldn’t stand watching her in the coffin, I had to go outside the chapel, and after that I couldn’t go to the grave at the cemetery. Not to mention I haven’t been in a church for 4 years. And I thought she’d outlive me, with all my depressions and emo cutting bullshit. If everyone has the guts to tell me right now that death is beautiful, I’m gonna kick their ass. It’s not beautiful, it’s not poetic, it’s not romantic. It hurts… Some moments I’m okay, others – I can’t stop crying, like now. On top of everything I’m sick. Some summer virus. I don’t know if I believe in those stuff, but one of my cousins said she regularly talks to her deceased relatives, and she saw grandma. She said that she’s in a better place, she can walk, she can move her arm, nothing hurts her…. I really hope so. I don’t really have anything else to say right now, so that’s it.
