No Satisfaction

Ha ha! Get your minds out of the gutter people! That is not what the title of this post refers to. Instead it is a bit deeper than that.

I am going to speak in very general terms, but I need to get something off my chest and out of my mind. I learned today that taking the high road is the right thing to do, but it certainly doesn't leave a whole lot of satisfaction.

Today I received an email from someone who is not a friend. This person took it upon herself to give me unsolicited advice and to chastise me for what she termed as my "rude" behavior at my dad's funeral (which she did not attend). Feeling stunned is putting it mildly. I could not fathom why she would want to write to me to give me her opinion, but I also am flabbergasted that she would have any opinion whatsoever in regards to my behavior at my father's service.

The nasty icky part of me wanted to write back to this person giving her a piece of my mind. I wanted to say mean, hurtful things to make her feel bad the way she made me feel bad. I wanted to ask her what in the world I had done to her to make her think it would be acceptable for her to judge me and then let me know about it.

Do I judge people? Sure I do. I think we all do. However, I try not to blatantly tell people rude and inconsiderate things. I try to keep to that old adage of, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Ironically, ever since my dad's funeral, I have been making more of a private effort to be less judgmental and less gossipy. Losing a loved one sure puts that into perspective. Life is so short. I'll admit, though, I'm having a REALLY hard time not judging this person right now.

I guess it boils down to the fact that I'm mad. I'm mad that she would dare speak to me about the funeral. She is not someone who cares about me or my family. I just feel like she has no right to make comments about anything that may or may not have happened.

People always say to not let it get to you. I am trying, but she did get to me. Any time my dad's funeral is brought up, it brings sad memories to the front of my mind. This email was not written with love and compassion. It was written to hurt. And it did.

Maybe now I can let go of the bitter feelings I've had all afternoon. By the way, I did respond to her and told her how wonderful it was to know that I have so many people, including her, caring and worrying about my family as we grieve. Then I promptly blocked her from being able to send any more emails.

High road? Yes. Satisfaction? Not really. I guess that means I'm human.