I hadn’t heard news this morning about whether my grandma made it through the night. Thankfully. I’ll still mourn her — especially because I made the abrupt choice to stay here, and work on my mental health. I was trying to convince myself of this, and then realized how much time I’ve spent in both a hospital and a PHP in March & now April; I don’t want to stay in another one.
Plus, it’s not like we’re just flying somewhere within the US — this is a MASSIVELY LONG trip! On the way to PHP today, my husband asked me who I would be there to see, my grandma or my family? “Grandma,” I grumbled.
My husband suggested that we go later this year, when the trip wouldn’t be all hurry–hurry-hurry. He pointed out my physical problems (something going on with my left ear), and my sense of equilibrium. I already have appointments to see my Primary Care Physician, and Optometrist. Oh, right. There’s something going on with my vision, and if I try to tell anyone, they might seriously think I’m psychotic. These were part of planning for the trip, though I needed to see those doctors, anyway.
Relatives might ask where I am. Others might think I’m disrespectful for not being there. If I was there, I can only imagine the deluge of questions. Why’s your hair that color? Do you think you’re still a kid? What is [this] PHP? Or maybe no one would ask any questions at all.
So easy to make this about myself. I just don’t want them to think I’m being disrespectful.
If you missed the funeral of an elevated family member, would your relatives consider you disrespectful?