Had a very long last two and a half days. My tiny family took over a hotel and had a ceremony for the one person who really kept us together. For some reason, I don't find a reception, after a funeral, is the way for me to grieve. Sitting around eating sandwiches and squares, talking to people you don't know isn't that comforting to me. Same with going back to my grandparent's... well, grandfather's house, and having to act happy, at a time when none of us are, particularly. It was a really, really rough time. And I still feel as though I haven't dealt with it.

The only good thing that came of these three gross days was last night, in my uncle's suite, everyone was slightly drunk, barefoot, putting on foot cream and wearing 'toe hats' made by my little cousin that looked a lot like what toes would look like if they were members of the KKK. A little random.