Coming Home (Part II)

[Happy Fourth of July]

We cleaned up at the church and piled into several vehicles and headed to Logan's Roadhouse. A group of my friends had already left, and in the midst of all the hullabaloo, I hadn't even thought about calling to give a definite number for our group. I wouldn't have been much help, anyway. I didn't know who was going which direction (including myself, most of the time).

Well, after about five minutes of rather raucous singing on my part in the care with two of my besties, we got to the restaurant, and had to add about 10 to the number originally given to the hostess. One of my other best friends who'd led the first half of our party to the restaurant hadn't counted on all of my family coming, so she just gave it her best guess, but she seemed kinda indignant when we all arrived. That, in turn, irritated me. It's not that big a deal; you just walk over to the hostess and say, "I'm sorry, I underestimated and we have [insert larger number here] people. I'm sorry for the inconvenience and we'll be flexible with however you need to accommodate us."

Well, a few minutes later we get to our tables and get everyone situated so that it's not entirely socially awkward: one large table with my family, and then me with my friends at the "kids" table. To my left was one set of best friends, and to my right was another set. It didn't take too long for me to feel flustered and wish I was at rehearsal instead.

I won't go into graphic detail because, well, this is the internet after all, and it would be my misfortune that said friends would read this (unlikely at this point, but again, my luck stinks sometimes) and would make some already unstable relationships even more treacherous.

I will say that my experiences that night and thereafter have opened my eyes to certain things.

1) The friends I have who really and truly know how to listen to me are not active in my life at this juncture.
2) Some of my best friends serially treat me like crap, but most of the time I'm better able to let them do so and forget about it till the next time it happens.
3) I don't know how much longer I'll be able to do that now that I realize this mistreatment.

I let people walk all over me and take advantage of me and belittle me. I've know that for a while, but I don't think I ever really realized how the people who are, or who at one point in my life were, closest to me do, and I let them. I didn't realize this till I was walking/talking with one of my mentors a couple nights later.

I went home feeling awful and went to bed so that I could be ready to return to work the next day.

Tuesday was hard.

As I was walking out of the kitchen that morning, my Mom and my grandfather were standing around the island, and after we had our usual exchange (Papaw: "Have a good day." Me: "You, too. I love you." Papaw: "Love you, too."), I looked at my family and thought, "This is it. It's just the three of us now," and that thought made its way to my tear ducts and formed a lump in my throat for the rest of the day.

I'd been around family every moment since Mamaw died, and my return to work that morning felt like the first day of kindergarten all over again. I'd been strong and adult-like mainly for my Mom's benefit for the past five days, and I hadn't had time to grieve the way I needed to: as a child who's world view (of home, anyway) had drastically changed.

So I got to camp, and received hugs and paper cards and prayers from some of the most precious people I know, and was weepy all day long.

There'd been a fire at the building the day before, so I returned on a day that was confused and kind of stressful to begin with, but carrying the emotional burden I was, it made for a weary Kate by the end of the day. If I remember correctly, rehearsal that night wasn't as uplifting as it normally is, so I just went home and crashed, hoping it would be easier the next day.

I am happy to report that it was.