coping mechanisms

this week was pure stress getting my grandmother's arrangements together.
i can't even tell you all that goes into making sure a loved one is sent away properly but i will say at the end of it all, we made sure that she had a dignified service and burial. i couldn't have done it without my mom.

my brother, the youngest one is 31 years old. he might as well be 13. he did really nothing to help and complained the entire time while me and my mom are running wild trying to get things done he's like... i'm hungry. i'm sleepy. i'm blah blah blah. we were in the car: me, mom and bro and we're trying to get my grandmother's clothes together that she was going to be buried in and the entire car ride, he complained. i looked in him his eyes and i said as loud as i could, SHUT UP! i really wanted to throw the f-bomb in there but my mom was around. he kept touching me..hugging me and playing with my hair and stuff....for like 2 days straight. i don't particularly like to be touched. so, i was like  STOP TOUCHING ME! she was like...you're so mean. on another ocassion, when she first told me about my grandmother dying....i didn't cry. my reaction was pure business like....ok, what do we have to do? she was like, why are you so cold?

so, i'm cold and mean.
and pretty much everyone concurred.
but they did also add that i'm polite.
i'm polite as a motherfucker.
if that's any consolation.

(it's not)

people don't understand that grief shows itself in many ways. and, i don't get how they want me to be weepy and inconsolable one minute but be on top of the arrangements and keep it together the next.
my mother called me a robot.

yea, i'm a robot that couldn't sleep at night, woke up crying when i did and basically felt the weight of a $7,000 funeral on my shoulders.

needless to say...it was a rough week, man.
my brothers and aunt left hours ago.
brock had been texting me all weekend to come over and fuck him. i decided that....having sex with dk was a great coping mechanism when my gma first died. it made me forget about the stress and emotional turmoil at least for the night. he held me tight and i got the best sleep i'd had all week.
as soon as they left, i called brock and went over to his house.

it is a really nice house.
i didn't get a tour. i came in through the back door which led straight to his bedroom.
we sat and talked about music for like 5 minutes and then he kissed me.

brock's lips are twice the size of mine and they are awesome. he did everything really well.
his penis is not as large as dk's but he knows how to work it better. he was adventurous and he worked my ass like a rag doll. it was good.

but then, he mentioned earlier that he had a work call at 9. we finished at 8:45ish. he asked me how i was getting home because of his call and such.
so, i put on my clothes and called a cab. he didn't even wait with me while the cab came.
i feel kind of empty inside...something i never felt after sex with dk.
he cuddles me and we talk and he insists that i spend the night. i've never really had sex and bounced immediately afterward.

i called dk when i got home and i wanted to talk to him but i got a feeling he didn't want to talk to me. he was like..

dk: how was your week?
me: crazy...yours?
dk: mine was good. why was it crazy?
me: i buried my grandmother.
dk: oh yea, how was that?
me:: i'll call you back later.

how was burying my grandmother?
it was freakin awesome!!!
how can someone be so tender and yet so clueless at the same time?

i want brock's sex game with dk's cuddle sessions and the ability to feel comfortable talking.
and dates. lots and lots of dates......

i was talking to my aunt about men because she asked me why don't i have a bf. i said, i'm sick of games. i'm too old to be wasting my time on dead-end relationships. i want a family.
my aunt is almost 50. she's dating a younger man, he's 42. she was talking to me about the same shit i blog about. she said...26, 32, 42, 60...they all do the same shit.

how depressing  is that!!?!

my friends were all over the place this week. i felt very much alone 90% of the time. i guess i just need to get used to it. grandma's best friend is still alive. they weren't holding hands in the casket. born alone. die alone yes? yes.