My 1st cousin and friend died yesterday. She was a good friend to me and I beleive loved me unconditionally. Back when she and her family were DF'ed I shunned them to a degree and regretted it lately. We had been back in good with each other recently, they were reinstated a few years ago. I was kinda dragging my feet driving back to LA, hoping to miss the memorial service, and I'm definitely not making the funeral tomorrow. My brother told everyone I was on the way and next thing I know I'm "expected" to show up. A quick stop at the rest area to shave the goatee down to match the rest of the 3 day "on the road" stubble and onward I went. I thought about not shaving, etc...such a trivial thing, isn't it? But I didn't want to get "into it" at a funeral home with 2 strong road days on my brain, all that time thinking about this and that, and it'll grow back in a day or two.
So I walk in and no kidding, most of my family there, no less than 20 dubs. I still am pretty obviously not all about the truth anymore, even with my clean up. I finally made it through all the hugs and fake smiles and oh we've missed you's (bullsh*t, that's why none of you have called me for over 14 years) back to my cousin lying in the coffin. She's barely in her 40's. I couldn't take it, so I turned and walked outside to cry alone, crying for her life of confusion and betrayal. I know she knew the real truth at one point, but couldn't make the break now that I look back. I was sad for that, for the defeat. Defeat in living not for yourself, but for a publishing company.
Another of my cousins came outside after me, one I was also really close to. After a few minutes of the real stuff, you know, the real person coming out from under the org, her being sad for our relative being gone. Then in a blink, I saw it in her face, almost like a robot, she said "you know, Donna (using the name here on purpose, if someone from there is reading this, maybe it's a good thing) made some bad decisions in her life, but in the end she repaired her relationship with Jehovah. Why my husband, who is over the field service reports, said she placed over 100 magazines in November alone, a week of which was spent in the hospital". There's only 1900 people in the parish...ahem. She then said to me, "you know, that's all we have is Jehovah. How do you feel about that?" I felt like I was in a demonstration of how to witness at a funeral or something, that's how I felt about that. I told her I felt more at peace with the truth and where I am with it than ever in my life. That I had finally broken free of worshipping like people told me I should and found what it means to be truly honest and happy. I was proud for my witnesslike evasive answer, but at the same time I wanted to tell her to stop. Stop telling herself she "might" make it to the new system if she worked hard enough and studied enough and placed enough f*cking watchtowers. But then I saw the eyes...the ones that reflect nothing because there is nothing behind them. Everything she knows from what she really likes to what happiness is, is written in some publication on some shelf somewhere in her house or the hall.
This place is dead to me, along with the people in it. They abandoned me a lifetime ago, I just wish I could stop mourning them.