Death: Reaching for Jesus?

Today I went to the "Meeting" which happened to be an hour earlier than I thought. I somehow got roped into sitting with my Grandma for hours on end.
I cried. I also called in sick to work.

I'm upset. I'm going to be upset. This is an upsetting thing. But for the love of god, do not coddle me and treat me like I'm about to break at any moment. I'm not, and if I were I would lock myself away from the world and cry, I wouldn't need anyones shoulder, I don't need your comforting words.

She's going to die. She is really old. The end.

So this lady, Gail, is part of the Hospice program. She sat there asking questions about myself and my family and things. Trying to get me to talk and open up.
I don't do therapy. I should get that printed on a shirt for times such as this one.

She kept telling me my Grandma was reaching up towards God. I tolerated it, but insisted I didn't want to pray. I don't pray unless it's something along the lines of "Please let this light stay green." Or "Please make this headache go away."
So needless to say that was a shit ton of fun.

I've been home for an hour or so now and I've just kinda sat. I've played some sims, but my heart wasn't in it. I wandered around the apartment but nothing appeals to me. I'm now eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.

The fact that all I want to do right now is pour a very strong drink and then go to bed, indicates that perhaps I'm not as well adjusted as I pretend to be. But for you, world, I will be putting on a brave face. You won't have to see my tears, listen to my sighs or be inside my head while I regret so many things in my life.

And now, the tears.

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