We finally buried Harlen's mom yesterday. The weather did not permit for the burial earlier. When we arrived at the cemetery I walked towards the grave which was one over from Loughlin's. Harlen's dad was in between. I looked at Loughlin's headstone and the metal pheasant that sat on the edge was on the ground, the tail feathers broke off. I picked it up and fixed it, put it back where it belongs. The chairs were almost touching the headstone. It made me sick. Harlen's siblings went over and sat in the chairs, more sick. Harlen dedicated the grave, even more sick. All I can think is get off my son. Why would they think this is ok? It isn't . I am angry about it. Get off my son. Even today I am still angry.
I am sure there is so much more to my anger, than the chairs and the broken pheasant. I feel like I have for 25 years, not the most important women in my husbands life. His mom never liked me. She never thought I was good enough for her son, and now as we bury her everyone tramples my son. I hope I am never like her. I hope that I can always remember that my children's happiness is more important than my petty judgement. The anger isn't going away anytime soon.
"Life is a Struggle"
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