The Upside of Anger
Good news, people. There are only five stages of grief. I've already checked off the first two, Denial and Anger, though I can't say I am completely through with them. The third step is Bargaining, but since Jen is long gone, I think I can skip that one. Then comes Depression and finally Acceptance. We'll see how those go.
What is really funny to me is that I thought for sure I was going to get a lot of Hate comments from the more rabid Christians that might stumble across my little blog, but so far, none. I had more people upset with me about the entry about the UPS guy's socks. I am almost disappointed.
A few friends who read this blog have called or emailed to see how I am doing. That means a lot to me. Death freaks a good percentage of people out, and leaves them afraid to say anything at all to someone who has recently lost someone else. It is so silly, I think. I mean, I am a pretty straight shooter and not one to mince words. There is always a way to say or ask what you are thinking in a tactful manner, no matter what the situation. Whenever a friend is lamenting about what they woulda-coulda-shoulda said to someone else, my advice is always the same: "Just say it! What is the worst that can happen? No one is going to DIE!"
See, like that. Some of you are cringing. I'm laughing, and I know that Jen is, too, and that makes me laugh even more. That is my advice to anyone, in nearly any situation, and I stand by it. The people who have taken my advice in said situations have ALWAYS come back to me and said things like, "That was amazing!" "I feel so much better!" "You should have seen the look on their face!" The ones who have not taken my advice end up repeating the same bitchfest to me over and over and over again to the point that when they start, I'll interrupt them and finish the story for them. You should see the looks on their faces.
And, speaking of inappropriate humor, here is a little something in regards to my dear departed friend Jen that I just thought of while I was writing this entry. Jen's nickname within a certain circle of my friends was, "Bucketchick," derived from an incident that took place well over 10 years ago, and is funny-but-you-had-to-be-there, so I won't go into it. "But, Jen," I say outloud to myself, "You know what we have to call you now?" Jen would have started the pre-giggle and cautiously asked, "What?"
"Well," I would say to her, "Now we have to call you 'KICKING the Bucketchick'!"
Then we both would have died laughing :)
