It's a lot about me?

So death has come to visit me again. Never quite grabbing hold, but brushing my life in ways that remind me he's there. Chillin'. Busy.
Taking care of my Uncle on hospice is certainly a different experience from when I did it for my stepdad- and please pre-emptive warning: this is not a 'pityme' blog entry. I just gotta get these thought and feelings down and out of me.
I feel angry about my Uncle lying on his death-bed and doing it before I could make enough money or time to take him up and visit his daugther (my cousin) at her new apartment.

I feel detached because I've done this before and I'm so afraid of falling apart or of other people falling apart around me and me being the only one left standing who can handle this.

I feel posessive because I've been taking care of him since he started his decline, and I was the one who said 'it's time to take him to the hospital' when we did that, and I was the one who said 'it's time to call hospice' when we did that, and I was the one who said 'Absolutely not, he is staying at home, no hospice facility, no nursing home' and yet everyone else (mostly Grandma, also Mom and some nurses) jumps in and answers the nurses questions and jumps up to get him food and pushes me aside and tells me I'm being 'bossy' when I tell them how to handle his drink or food or walking or bathing. I was the one who volunteered to care for him without gloved hands- so let me do it. And you're goddamn right I know more about it that you do. I worked in a nursing home. I've been caring for him longer than you have. Let me care for my dying Uncle while I can before classes and work tear me away.

But of course, I just deal with it like an immature child by throwing my hands up in the air and leaving for 2 days to visit his daughter in Orlando, so I can relax, and bitch, and let them take over as they so clearly want to.

I suppose I needed the break anyhow.
And I have some growing up to do. It's shocking the amount of change and growth you undergo while in college, and the massive, life-altering lessons you learn (or at least, I consider myself to have...whether or not they've been fully absorbed is yet to be seen.) But what's been even more of a jolt to me is the amount I'm changing and learning now that I'm out, and- for a while at least- free.
I am actually gaining friends. By gaining I mean both finding new ones and rekindling old friendships- most notably that of Stephanie Rosenblatt- one of the 'trio' of best friends I had in high-school. Much to my surprise, we've grown more alike than apart in the past 4 years, during which we hadn't really spoken at all. Which is awesome, because it's wonderful to find a kindred soul in another that's been waiting there along to help pull you out of your self-pitying, immature slump.
And so she seems to be. Instead of training on my own, which becomes more intermittent as I convince myself I have to be there every second for my Uncle, (you'd be surprised what a great workout excuse that is!) I'm now going to be partnering up with her, and we're planning on beginning training for the half-marathon level and moving up from there...

And about that, I'm excited. Which means something. And that emotion I can go on. :)
Yeah.