Bear with me here, folks; I am rambling a bit, and so even I don't know where this will end up.

My grandfather passed away on  January 1.  He was on a downhill slide from sometime in October. People turn weird when someone dies, and I would just as soon the would act normally.  Folks you haven't seen in years come out of the woodwork.  There is more food now at my grandmother's house than any small starving nation could eat in a month.  Of course the food situation is compounded by the fact that when my grandmother is stressed, she cooks. 

Everyone of the folks who have magically appeared on the doorstep seem to be present or former preacher types, and they all want to pray with my grandmother about how my grandfather is in heaven and we will all see him "on the other side."  Two words that have become nonspoken in her house are "died," and, curiously enough, "heaven."

As the lone pagan in the family, the prayers mean very little to me, except having to stand in a circle, holding hands, wondering how the preacher in question lost his leg.   That was how one of the prayers today went for me, so that is why I use it as an example. 

As I believe I said on the boards, I think my cousin thinks I am a bitch.  I looked at my grandfather's body at the morturary, and all I saw was a shell.  My grandfather wasn't there, and I am not sure if he ever was there.  It was like a cosmic joke that the old man had played on everybody.  I think, if the room he was in wasn't so somber, I would have laughed.  My husband would have likely seen it as hysteria.  

I don't know where my grandfather went. He never said much about what he believed.  He seemed to go to church for the socialization, and to pacify my grandmother.   In many ways, my grandfather will always be a mystery for me. 

I miss him, and I am sorry that he is gone. But I don't mourn him.  I don't think I can explain it more than that.  I hope my friends here understand, but I can't say for certain.  I am not sure even I understand.  I am tired of folks expressing their sympathies.  I am tired of dealing with the funeral director. I have spent the day picking at nits, watching the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer called The Body.  I don't share the feelings with the characters on the episode, but I can't seem to stop watching it. 

 I think I have reached that point where I am ready for the whole think to be over.  I don't know what kind of person that makes me, but there it is.