Closure – It’s one of those words I’ve always scoffed at. I’ve never understood the idea of closure and how things can just stop affecting you. In my experience, things just kind of linger and slowly, over a long period of time, start to hurt a little less and at some point it only creeps back in your consciousness every once in a while.

That’s the experience I’ve always had. Yet, I think that yesterday I might have actually found closure on several levels.

First, I buried my grandmother. The tragedy that was her life has come to a full close. It’s a story that has been placed on the shelf only to be revisited when we need to learn from it. While I’m sure at some point I’ll feel the pain of the loss and tragedy again, for now, I feel closure on this whole thing… and I hope to never have to go back to Ellensburg again.

Second, I became my mother. I saw it coming on. We make the same facial expressions, the same snarky comments at the same time, the same “It’s time for a drink” sigh, and the same smirk when we know something we shouldn’t. We have the same ability to get said information without really trying. This really just scratches the surface but on so many levels my mother and I are completely alike.

Once upon a time my goal was “never become like my family.” I called myself the white sheep of the family (lovingly, of course) and wanted to be as far away from them as possible. Slowly, that’s changed. It wasn’t a growing-up-and-realizing-that-your-parents-aren’t-so-bad thing. It was a my-mother-did-what-I-thought-she-would-never-do thing. She apologized. When the shock wore off, we talked through it. She changed and then I changed.

As much as I always wanted to disassociate myself from my family, and her extended family especially, it warmed my heart a little bit to realize how similar we are and how in many ways we were also similar to her mother. Granted, that warmth could have been from the vodka she snuck with us in a flask, but still…

Third, I went into a church again. Not only was I not immediately smited by the wrath of God, I actually made it through the funeral without anyone trying to spray me with holy water. Okay, I’m exaggerating… no one, save my mother, even knew that I don’t believe anymore.

While at the church, before the funeral, I did a lot of reflection on my prodigal status. I was to lead a hymn but felt like a hypocrite doing so. I was doing it for my family, though. I think I came to peace with where I am for the first time.

You see, because my closest friends are friends from my Christian College, it’s been hard to share this process with them without feeling like I’m disappointing them. The thing is, though, my worldview can not be dependant on what I think will gain approval. I’m still in process but at the moment I’m at peace with feeling clueless about the world. I don’t need to have the answers. I’ll get there.

I got back to Seattle late last night with my grandmother’s jewelry in my trunk and a sense of peace and direction.

It’s time to get back in the game.

I’ve found closure.

This Badass Bitch is back.

Weight loss details shall resume shortly. I had a lovely surprise… one that made me say happy explatives in a store… while on the phone with my mother…