Goodbye, Papa Joe…

Please forgive me if this post isn’t the most eloquent. I just came back from a funeral and I’m feeling a little out of sorts. My best friend’s grandfather died this past week, and he was laid to rest this afternoon.

Believe it or not, this was my first funeral. I’ve never gone to one before. And because of that, I was nervous about going. I wasn’t too sure how I was going to react to the whole thing.

As soon as I entered the cemetery and heard the somber music, I completely lost it. It was also seeing my friend—who is normally a rock (she’s ridiculously strong), breakdown, made the tears stream down my cheek. I felt her pain. I couldn’t stop crying. I’m sure that everyone at the funeral was wondering why I was taking it extra hard, especially since he wasn’t even my grandfather, but I knew how close my friend was with her grandfather, and losing him would really affect her. I felt so guilty for not being strong for my friend. I went to console her and sadly, she was actually making me feel better. I’m sooo not the person to have in a tragic situation.

After the tears, we fixed ourselves and were able to joke around as usual. I’m sooo happy that I conquered my fear of funerals and went and was able to see my friend through her loss.

Until my next entry…

peace & love,

michelle