My life so far Part 6.

I started 7th grade in the fall. It was a better year; I was used to my school and comfortable in it. I had made new friends and while I was still anxious and nervous around people, I was much better then the year before. I always had different types of friends. I wasn't drawn to a certain type or clique anymore, if someone interested me, I liked them, some were popular, some weren't, some were weird to others, a lot were guys. A lot of people took that as being weird myself or just trying to please everyone, but I was ok with it.

A couple of months into the year, I had my first boyfriend of middle school. The year before I had dozens of crushes, mostly from new boys I had met, but I was too shy to ever really become close to one... this year was easier and before I knew it, I was asked out. I was surprised by the boy; we had "dated" for a while in elementary school and he had liked me even after we broke up, I knew that but wasn't interested. Being around him more and being older, I saw him in a different light and really enjoyed being around him. We had a lot of the same classes and friends. He was very handsome; he had dark hair and blue eyes, skinny and tan. He was very sweet and quiet, like me. We were both shy starting out and being in a middle school relationship, that was very different then the one we were in when we were 7. We dealt with different issues, with being on the cusp of being teenagers. Touching and kissing were parts of our lives now... it was very scary and nerve wracking, but also exciting and fun. I always looked forward to coming to school with butterflies in my stomach and wanting to look nice for someone.

It is inevitable that when you get a boyfriend, all the other guys decide they like you too. That is what happened to me, I became very popular with guys in my class, I didn't know what to think of all the sudden attention. Combined with the fact that I became really close to one of the prettiest girls in our class and our grade the year before, and became even more so this year, I really enjoyed the attention. After having to deal with people not being so nice to me, I felt warranted in the attention. This girl was naturally beautiful; tall, tan, skinny but with decent sized boobs for a 12 year old, beautiful smile, long brown hair and brown eyes, and everything she wore looked amazing on her. A lot of girls hated her on sight; hated the attention she got from the guys, swore she was a slut, and that her boobs were stuffed or fake. She was always confident in her appearance and she was smart, but she didn't think she was above anyone. If you looked closer, like I did, you could see someone who was shy and sweet. Someone who was insecure and sometimes embarrassed about her body and the way it was different from everyone else's. She would cry sometimes from all the teasing, and even went so far as to lift her shirt up and show people her bra to make them see that they were real, stretch marks and all. I think that was one of the reasons we got a long; I took the time to know the real her, who was a goofball even though she was beautiful, and knew all her fears. I also didn't like people to be mean to her and that most of the time she wouldn't stand up for herself, I always found myself almost always being her protector, which I am sure surprised people that I was the one taking care of the popular girl. But we complimented each other nicely, in turn she would help me accent things about myself and gave me confidence too.

This was the year when my best friend started having problems with me. We were still super close, but she like I said, didn't feel pretty or wanted by guys. When I started getting attention and hanging out with a popular girl she didn't like it and gave me a hard time. I felt like she was trying to inhibit me from having any other friends period, and made me feel guilty for having a boyfriend or being pleased about myself. I told her many times that I was jealous of her as much as she was of me. She excelled in sports with no problems, she was always friends with the girls who played sports, and all of them happened to be popular. I was always jealous of her family life, with her parents still being together and actually being interested in her life and having a stable home. I thought she took it all for granted. We always fought and made up, we just tried to adjust to each other as best we could.

Back to the boyfriend. The relationship mostly consisted of walking to class, walking to lockers, holding hands, phone calls, dances, and occasional hugs or pecks on the cheek when the teachers weren't looking. All of our teachers became aware of our relationship and would watch like hawks, I guess to make sure we weren't having sex in the hallways...

My home life was about the same, it was actually pretty stable with the occasional fight that I had grown used to.

For Christmas we got a dog from Santa, a Shih Tzu named Sandy. She was a big puffball of fur, she looked like a dust mop. I loved her at first sight.

In January, I came home from school on a Friday and was depressed. We had a 3 day weekend coming up and while I was happy to sleep in, I would miss my boyfriend and friends. My mom came home from work early which I thought was odd. She came into my room and told me she needed to take me to my dad. I asked why and she said that my grandma was in the hospital and I needed to see her. I wasn't all that worried, she was old, so she went in for every little ailment. I asked what was going on with her this time and my mom started to cry. I became scared. She said that she was in a coma; at first it was doctor induced and eventually turned into a regular one. She had emphazema and she was dying. Everyone was going to say goodbye. I was in shock, I had no idea she was even sick! My dad had said a couple of weeks before that she caught a cold, but that was it. It had gotten far worse and no one had bothered to tell me. She took me to her room; I was surprised at how much of our family was there. Then I knew it was serious. I saw my dad; his face was red and puffy; I realized he had been crying. I didn't ever remember seeing him cry before. He explained everything and said he didn't want to worry me for nothing, so he kept quiet about it, but I don't think he even knew how serious it had been. I went into her room to see her. The lights were dim and she was still, with all these tubes and machines everywhere. I immediately started to cry. I would do that a lot over the next few days. I went out into the waiting room with the rest of my family. My cousins walked in with my aunt; she had picked them up from out of town. They were planning to stay until after the funeral.

I wasn't ready for this. My grandma had taken care of me for so much in my life and she was dying. I couldn't do anything for her, I wasn't ready for her to leave me, who would be there when my parents inevitably screwed up again??? I thought maybe if she rested, she would feel better and would come out of it. As the hours ticked slowly by and the day turned into the next, I realized that wasn't happening. It wouldn't be good for her; her body couldn't do it. I had no doubt that if she could, she would get up and try to leave; that she would fight to stay here with all of her kids and grandkids that she loved so much. But she couldn't. So I painfully began to pray that she died. That was the first time I had ever wished that for someone and it was a very hard thing to do for a 12 year old. It was the first time I had experienced death so up close. My whole family was close to her, she was our center. I could see everyone crumbling and trying to accept what was happening. For 3 days I sat either in her room holding her hand, or in the waiting room with my family, just waiting. The only time I left was to sleep. I refused to leave; she was always there for me and I wasn't going to let her be alone. My dad and I shared a painful moment, just the two of us in her room late one night. He told her she could go and we would be ok. I did the same, and we were both sobbing by the time it was over, but we felt better, I don't know if she could hear us, I liked to think so though. On the last night, I stayed overnight in her room with my aunt and my "idol" cousin. We shared a cot and my aunt sat in the chair. Around 8 the next morning, my aunt woke us up to tell us it was happening soon the nurses thought. We were able to get up and awake and in minutes a good bit of our family was in the room with us. I don't know if they were already in the waiting room or just rushed over. But they knew. They were already crying. The nurse came in and took her vitals. She looked at everyone and said she was gone. She turned off everything and took everything out of her. She told us that although she looked like she was still breathing, which was a side affect of the machine breathing for her for so long, she no longer had a heartbeat. She left the room. Finally, the room was silent. No more machines or tubes for her. She just looked like she was lying there, sleeping. It was over. My life changed right then. I can't really describe the feeling, sadness sure, but I felt a piece of myself leaving me, maybe it was some of my innocence or just a part of her, I don't know. All I know was I felt actual physical pain all over my body, especially in my stomach. I saw what was in me mirrored in every single one of my family members in that room. At least I wasn't alone.
My aunt started wailing, soft at first, then huge big sobs that vibrated through my head. I grabbed the nearest person, my cousin, and held on. We all stayed there in the room until the nurse came back in and told us we had to go in the hall, they had to move her.

We waited in the waiting room, I was worried about my dad, he didn't make it in time, I knew he would be devastated. I saw him and his girlfriend walking up the hall; they were both crying. He came to me and I clung to him. I wanted him to take it all away; I think he wanted me to do the same. I comforted him as best I could. I told him she didn't suffer, it was peaceful. The doctor told us we should all go outside and get some fresh air. What they were really telling us was we had to leave because they were moving her body and didn't want us to see it anymore with the white sheet over it. So we all went outside for a while. Everyone was quiet, except for the occasional soft crying. No one knew where to go from there, our center was gone. Someone had to call my grandfather and tell him. They hadn't spoken for many years, but everyone knew he would be affected deeply by her death. So my dad and an uncle went and told him. He was very quiet, that was just his way, but he was upset. He wouldn't be attending her funeral; he didn't think it was right for him to be there. He did send flowers.

My family spent a lot of time the next couple of days at my uncle's house. It was big enough to hold everyone, so we all gathered there and talked and just gave each other comfort when it was needed. My cousins, me, and occasionally my dad and aunt stayed in the basement with the radio and the pool table. I actually became pretty good at the game, we played it to keep our minds off of things. We ate food when we could, and we napped too. I just felt so empty inside. I kept telling myself it was for the best, I didn't want her to be in pain and not be able to breathe, but at the same time, I didn't want her to leave me either. Her visitation came; it was difficult. There were a lot of people there; she had a lot of admirers. Everyone had the same thing to say; that she was such a kind woman who would always want to take care of anyone/anything she thought needed it, yet an opinionated firecracker who wasn't afraid to speak her mind when necessary. She loved with her whole heart. It was the first time I had seen her since her death; she looked different, I knew it wasn't her. I struggled to keep it together. I managed to do well until the very end. I was with my cousin at her coffin saying goodbye. We both knew that was the last time we were going to see her. She would be cremated later and then put into an urn and buried. It was so painful. We looked at each other and started sobbing. We clutched each other and just stood there in front of her for it seemed like forever. I physically couldn't handle of the thought if leaving her; my body wouldn't move. Our parents, crying themselves, pried us apart and half carried us out of the chapel. I didn't sleep well; I don't think anyone did.

Her service the next day was beautiful. It was all a blur. I remember my mom and stepdad, and siblings came. They sat a few rows back from me. I actually didn't even sit with my dad. He sat with my stepmom and my aunt. I ended up sitting with my cousins, we all sat in the front row together, my girl cousin on one side and my boy cousin who was my best friend when growing up on the other. We all held hands, and tried to get through it. I don't remember what anyone said. Her graveside service was short and simple. It was a nice place, she was buried next to her sister who had died as an infant. It was a beautiful day, but cold and windy. I was so tired from being so emotional for so long. We went back to my uncle's house and ate. I stayed with my dad and cousins one more night. They had to go back home and get back to school the next day and I did too. I went back home to my mom's house. I didn't want to leave my dad, I didn't want him to be alone or sad and I was afraid of being along with my thoughts. I broke down that first night and my mom held me. I did many more times after that; but the pain became less severe. I went back to school and tried to get on with my life.

In the springtime, I split with my boyfriend. We had been together a long time for 2 people who were young. I wanted to date another friend who I had been crushing on. He was actually best friends with my boyfriend, so I talked it over with him to see if that was something he really wanted to do. He said yes, so we began dating and kept it a secret for a while. It was very cold, but being young, I didn't think about it too much. I felt bad I had hurt him, he took the break up hard, but I was just ready for a change, I thought we should both see what else was out there. He eventually found out his friend and I were dating. He was a little bothered, but they still continued their friendship and after a while we were friends again too. He dated someone new as well. The boyfriend I had like I said had always been a friend of mine, we even dated for a while in elementary school. We always seem to be confused as to what we wanted to be. We hadn't been dating long before we wanted to split up and become friends again. It is not that we didn't like each other, but we were very different. He was a real slacker, class clown kind of guy and while that was fine for a friend, it wasn't good boyfriend material. He didn't take it hard when we split. We did this a lot throughout our lives. About a month later, my old boyfriend and I got back together. We did this a lot too.

My 13th birthday party was one of the best I remember. It was my first boy-girl party, and everyone attended. They all got a long so well too; which surprised me because they were all from different cliques. My boyfriend met my dad, which was embarrassing. He watched me like a hawk. My boyfriend bought me a sweet present, something he knew I wanted. It was a great party and everyone went back to school talking about it. My dad took me out after it with my best friend and saw a late movie.

That ended my school year; I had gone through one of the hardest times of my life, but a lot of good things had happened too.