Tennessee

Okay, so I've put it off for a week, but it's time.

Last week my family and I were in Tennessee for my uncle's funeral (my dad's younger brother). We left Wednesday evening. It took us about eight hours to get there. We got there around 12:45 am. We stayed in Nashville at my aunt's house (my dad's older sister). Well, my parents and grandparents did. My aunt took Ash and I to a hotel since all seven of us were not going to be able to sleep in her house.

Anyway, Thursday was just kind of a chill day. We didn't do much.

Friday was the funeral. We had to be in Murfreesboro (where my uncle lived and the funeral was) for 11:30 Friday morning. We didn't know exactly how to get there, so we were following my aunt. Well, one thing about my aunt, she has a lead foot. So even though we were supposed to be following her, she takes off on the highway. So, my dad, trying to catch up with her, slams on the gas. Well, not even a mile onto the highway, we pass a cop, and guess who gets pulled over. 72 in a 55. Yeah, great way to start off the day, right? So, I'm riding shotgun, and my mom is in the back seat with my sister. We pull over, and my mom is freaking out because she doesn't have her seat belt on. She pulling and pulling and it keeps locking up. Well, if you pull too hard, it locks. She was too wired to pull it slowly. Anyway, because of how the shoulder was at this part of the highway, the cop had to come up to my window. I texted my aunt as soon as we pulled over, and she called me right when the cop walks up to my window. I try to ignore it, and I actually answer it. Apparently, all my aunt heard before I managed to hang it up was the cop saying, "Metro Police." So, my aunt tells my grandma, who's riding with her, and she starts freaking out. My dad explains to the cop that we are going to his brother's funeral, and we didn't know where we were going. My mom is nearly in tears in the backseat. The cop takes my dad's license and paperwork, and goes back to his car. My dad calls my aunt and tells her what's going on. My aunt (who ended up with this small twig in her car when she had to go back home to get her phone and she'd parked too close to the trees by her house) hangs up with my dad and tells my grandma that she gets to use the twig as a switch on my dad for getting pulled over, and send my grandma into a laughing fit. The cop comes back and gives my dad a verbal warning and tells him to slow down. (Yay, no ticket!) So of course, once we get to the funeral home, the story gets told over and over and over, and never gets any less funny.

**THIS PART IS ABOUT THE FUNERAL HOME, AND IT WILL BE FULL OF SADNESS, REGRET, AND ANGER. YOU CAN SKIP THIS PART. I REALLY NEED TO VENT.**

So we had to be at the funeral home at 11:30 because we got a special family viewing before all the other people showed up. Up until this point, I'd only cried once over my uncle's death and that was when my dad told me he died. I was okay when we first walked into the chapel. I was okay when I saw my uncle in the open casket. I wasn't okay when I saw the only picture of my sister and I on the poster board that said "Kind & Caring Uncle" was a picture from his wedding when Ashley and I were 5 & 7. There we about 20 other pictures  of him with his other nieces and nephews on his wife's side. But the only picture of his brother's daughter's was 11 1/2 years old. We'd sent him newer pictures, but that's the one we got. I saw it, and I lost it. I walked out of the chapel, and cried. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to. I wanted to be selfish. I didn't want to be strong for my grandma, my dad, my aunt. I had so many questions in my head. Why is that the only picture they had of us? Why hadn't I seen him in 11 1/2 years? Why was there always an excuse from him for why we couldn't see him? I didn't take long for my mom to come and talk to me. All I wanted was to be alone, but that wasn't going to happen.

I was mad because I hadn't seen him for 11 1/2 years.
I was mad because I didn't really know him.
I was mad because I didn't really remember him.
I was mad because I am never going to get a chance to know him.
I was mad because either he chose to remember me as a 7-year-old to make himself feel better for not seeing Ashley and I since his wedding or he didn't realize that I was 19 years old, and he missed most of my life.
I was mad because he obviously spent a lot of time with his other nieces and nephews, but where was the time for us?
I am mad because I still feel all of this, and I don't know what to do about it.

And now, I'm crying again. Exactly why I waited a this long to write this. I can't do this anymore. I'm moving on.

My aunt came to talk to me. She told me that the picture wasn't put there to hurt me. It wasn't there to make me feel bad. It was there because he cared about Ash and me. It was there because it was a happy memory we shared. But I couldn't see it. Every time I looked at it throughout the visitation hours and funeral, I had to look away. That picture represented the extent of our relationship. I was his junior bridesmaid and Ashley was his flower girl, and that's as far as we made it. Maybe we got a phone call on our birthday. And every time I saw that picture all of those feelings came back.

**OKAY I'M DONE!**

Other than my breakdown, the funeral went at well as it could. There was a short grave site service and then we headed back to Nashville.

Saturday was an early morning. We left Nashville and headed home. We took nearly 12 hours to get home because we could, stopping when we wanted. And hey, we got see the end of the Saints game!

So, yeah, that was Tennessee.

-sigh-

Bye for now,
Amber Marie