Would you rather celebrate life? Or go to a funeral?

My grandfather died on August 31st. It's a good thing he died, it's been dragging on a few years and the poor shrivelled man seriously was not enjoying life bedridden and in a diaper at all. He was a bastardy man, couldn't keep his dick in his pants, hence I have three maternal grandmothers and a whole big extended - and pretty dysfunctional - family as a result. Dysfunctional is normal, I think. There's dirty laundry in every family. We humans are not perfect. C'est la vie.

I was at a dinner tonight. Old friends having dinner. Ten years, we've all known each other. Group dynamics are changing fast, as the first of us to get married is getting married on September 30th. The dinner tonight was for the bride to give us our invites. Such pretty invites! And Mrs Field's gift vouchers!! YUMMMM!! We've all been looking forward to the wedding. TCW is emceeing. I've been looking for a dress (or suit, haven't decided yet...) It's been fun, discussing details and all the rest of it. Until tonight.

My mother called as we were finishing dinner. Told me the funeral is September 30th. At 8pm. But family are expected to be there no later than 6. WHAT THE FUCK.

I was so angry I actually almost burst into tears. Being 30 hasn't changed this part of me - I cry when I'm angry. Hahaha. And so now I'm left with no choice but to not go to the wedding because I am obliged to go to this funeral. I am so fucking pissed off and yet it seems to me my hands are tied. I can't see a way out.

So what the hell? WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?? What makes the funeral more important than the wedding? The guy is fucking dead. Why is it that I feel celebrating the most important day in my friend's life means more? Why? I don't know! What the fuck?!?! Just because I'm related to the man doesn't mean a thing. He was never there when I was upset, he was never there to make me laugh, he wasn't the one who stood by me through the years and who brought siu yeah to me in the middle of the night when I was hungry and still working behind the bar.

I choose to celebrate life. But it seems I have no choice in the matter. I don't understand. I can't believe a dead man can fucking screw with my life still. I also can't believe a dead man will be left lying in a fridge for a month. WHAT THE HELL?? Who has a funeral 30 days after you die (unless you're Michael Jackson and people are digging through your body for drugs and all that crap?)

I FUCKING HATE THIS. WHAT THE FUCK.

I'm sorry God. I suck.