What does that even mean?

The day after my Grandma's funeral, I went to lunch with my mom, her life partner, aunt, cousin and her two little girls. In the middle of lunch, my cousin says to me, "I don't know how you got through what you read."

Wow, a little acknowledgement, I thought to myself. And from Lisa? "Honestly, I don't either. I asked Grandma for her strength during the prayer and I re-read what I wrote dozens of times to numb myself to my words," I revealed.

"You could be an actor," she added.

Really?! What does that even mean? A part of me still thinks I should have asked, and I had for a split second considered insisting on clarification were it not for the emotional fragility of our bereaved mothers.

What crossed my mind was, "Lisa, you’re so the epitome of authentic, thoughtful and selfless. Now that was acting. Thank you."

Honestly, in hindsight, what would have been ripe for the occasion is to acknowledge how utterly sad a statement she made. If the purpose of her statement was to question my authenticity, all she really did was declare her own. I regard this in the only way her "sentiment" exists in reality; a revelation of self.

Admittedly, I stepped outside myself the day of the funeral, that week, possibly even since the time of my dear Grandma's passing. I am uber sensitive and vulnerable to my core. I know the delivery of my eulogy was stoic. It began with an emotional connection. Suddenly becoming stoic by the end of the first page was a defense mechanism necessary so I could deliver my thoughtfully crafted words without completely falling apart; so my voice, my truth about my Grandma, could in some way, shape or form be expressed to those dearest to her.

I had one of the heaviest of hands planning and coordinating my Grandma's final life celebration. To me, at the time, having a creative outlet I thought to be helpful. In hindsight, it was a distraction which seemed to have benefitted me the least. I didn't allow myself to grieve her. Yet I don't know that I would have done anything differently for this was truly my final opportunity to do something for my Grandma, and I wanted to do all I could to ensure she had a perfect day of remembrance.

I began writing my Grandma's eulogy about a month before she died, just as she was starting hospice care. I know myself well enough if I had waited until the day arrived, I wouldn't have had the wherewithal (a word my ex of seven years introduced to my diction) to construct anything worthy of how this wonderful woman touched my life so profoundly. My Grandma was one of the truest and purest sources of love my soul has ever known incarnate.

My heart goes out to Lisa. Only someone void of love could be so insensitive and heartless ...