“SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS”

I can’t explain why but I’ve always hated it when someone says “Sorry for your loss” after a death.

I also hate when anyone says “You look like your handling it well”. This was said to me at my Mom’s wake. So was “Sorry for your loss” about a hundred times. By the end of the night I wanted to punch someone so badly I had to hide in the bathroom.

The reason I looked like I was handling things well was probably because I was in shock and probably because I was manic. My sister was doped up on Valium and after the wake went out with my cousin and my Uncle George to have a few drinks. I wasn’t invited of course. I wonder if he ever knew that she never wanted him at her wedding? By the way they had a great time. I was at home with my Dad who could barely stand up he was so devastated.

The worse part are the people that you know treated her like shit, smiling and saying their fake words. I wanted to scream “Where were you when she needed you? When she went to the VA Hospital every single day to change your father’s diapers and you couldn’t be bothered to even call! But you sure showed up when you thought there was money! Then accused my mother of “taking” his car and refused to speak to her for years! She cried all the time because of it!”.

But as usual I never said a word. I let everything fester or buried it.

I CAN’T REMEMBER THE DATE OR YEAR MY MOM DIED OR THE TIME

I know it was in February. People have told me the date and year but I can’t retain that information. My brain refuses to.

I hate to admit it but there is so much I’m uncertain of when it comes to the date and year. I am confused easily. The number 9 sticks in my head for everything and I don’t know why. I try to tell the truth to people but sometimes I can’t because I honestly don’t remember. I’m only 44. How much of it is from having Bipolar Disorder, Conversion Disorder, Celiac Disease or Kidney Failure? I have no idea. It scares me sometimes. It scares me that sometimes there isn’t anyone to ask.

I can only imagine what will happen if something with my Dad goes wrong. I’ll be alone with no one on my side that still loves me unconditionally. (Except for the four legged beings) That scares me too. Save “your sorry” for someone else because I don’t want to hear it anymore.

THIS IS US~ AN HOMAGE TO LOVE, LOSS, AND MEMORY (*Spoiler Alert*)

I’ve been watching the Television show This Is Us from it’s first episode. I have to say that there haven’t been many episodes that I have not cried at.

The relationship between Randall (Sterling K. Brown) and his biological father William (Ron Cephas Jones) is complicated and poignant. William is a creative carefree poet and musician while Randall is a tightly wound businessman.

Randall searches for his biological father and finds him living in a small apartment with few possessions, only what’s necessary, including his poetry and music. William appears okay with his situation, it’s what he’s used to.

Initially Randall wants to be angry at this man but something inside him can’t.

We find out that William is Terminally Ill with Cancer and he moves in with Randall and his family. He is able to know his grandchildren and daughter in law. Randall is still somewhat allusive. Afraid to get too close.

They eventually begin to open up to one another and William succeeds in bringing out a more spontaneous side of Randall.

In Episode 16~ Memphis, William wants to take a road trip to where he grew up. Randall has recently left the Hospital after having a breakdown, unable to cope with the stress of his job and knowing his time with his father is becoming shorter.

In flashbacks we see William’s childhood. Raised by a single mother he was close to. She encourages him to pursue his poetry and music and he does. Fate intervenes, which sets into motion a series of events leading to how he met Randall’s mother and the death of his own mother.

The music in this episode is outstanding and fits every scene. Ron Cephas Jones is an inspiration throughout this entire show. This episode had me thinking back to when my own mother had lung cancer. Only people who have been through it can truly understand what it’s like to feel so helpless when a loved one is seriously ill.

Randall and William were able to say what they needed to at the end. I wish I had that chance. When William says “My beautiful boy” I lost it. There wasn’t enough toilet paper or Kleenex in the room. My mom would say “My beautiful baby girl” to me when she knew I wasn’t feeling good. When you’re close to a parent like I am it is a life changing event to lose them.

This Is Us did such an incredible job without being too corny or trying to force emotions out of you. It was perfect.

Holiday Torment

Every year my mom cooked for the Holidays. She was an excellent cook. She made the best stuffing I’ve ever had. I would make sandwiches out of it with just stuffing and mayo. I know it sounds gross but it wasn’t. She did Thanksgiving and Christmas. She also did Easter and St. Patrick’s Day. There was only one thing that she didn’t like to do or wasn’t the greatest at and that was baking. That gene went to me.

I remember most of the time we would almost be done eating by the time my mom got to sit down to eat. I never appreciated that. I remember her trying to hide the turkey from me because I would steal the cooked crispy pieces of skin. I would still get to it. I would hear my name being screamed and I would laugh and hide. When the turkey was brought to the table there would be bald patches where I took the skin. It got to the point where she would just cut me off pieces of the skin and slice up the turkey before bringing it to the table. This was because she loved me.

All Holidays stopped for me February 21, 2008 at 10:07 p.m. This is when she passed away in front of me. She was probably gone before I got there but they had to make it look good.

My Annie, my mom, gone at 62. After a life filled with sorrow and pain and then finally some joy is taken away. How can you celebrate a Holiday after the light in the room is no longer there?

This year I decided we needed to do Thanksgiving. My father and I have a lot to be thankful for. Both of us have survived or cheated death this year. I would say that deserves a celebration. So I am doing all the cooking if I can keep my father out of the way! What a pain in the ass! He cooked in the Navy and thinks he knows everything. He knows Creamed Chipped Beef on Toast! I’m making an Italian Love Cake, Turkey, Stuffing, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy, and a Vegetable his Highness can agree on. I remind you this all has to be Gluten Free. Not so easy but if I’m left alone it’s easier. I just want the Italian Love Cake.

I’m hoping this will help change things. I’m also going to slowly bring in some Christmas decorations. My mother wouldn’t want us to be this way. She would want us to be loud and laughing like she always was.

My father and I will never be loud but we can try to have a good day together. Maybe.

Leaving The House

Today I left the house for the first time since I had to euthanize my dog. I wouldn’t have left the house today if my dad hadn’t refuse to go to the store for me again. He said I had to go outside. I don’t know why. If I didn’t need food I wouldn’t have.

My sister hasn’t called or texted since we lost Pookie. She’s always there for me. Lol My mother was never an animal person either. Neither of them could ever understand my father and me getting upset over an animal or taking such an interest in all animals. How they survive, breed, their environment, all of it. Veterinarians would call my dad and ask him questions about birds. He had to go to one Vets house to separate his male and female pheasants for him because he didn’t know. I’m proud of him for that. For a man with only an 8th grade education and an alcoholic who has been sober for 32 years.

My dad is as depressed as I am. He doesn’t want to do dialysis anymore. They hurt him every time he goes. He has to stay a half hour extra with a clamp on his fistula because it won’t stop bleeding. I told him it’s because they’re doing it wrong and possibly infiltrating him every time. He doesn’t say anything. We are bringing each other down. I don’t want this. I want him to live. I love him so much for sticking by me when everyone else told him not to. He never gave up on me. Since my mom passed away he’s given up on a lot. It’s been 7 years and he still hasn’t found any peace. Deep down I think he wants to be with her. I can’t blame him. I’m being selfish because I don’t want to be left alone.

Is There a Wrong Way To Grieve For A Pet?

In my 42 years on this planet I have lost 2 grandmothers, 2 grandfathers, 2 Aunts, 2 Uncles, my Mom, 4 dogs, and 1 cat. 2 of the dogs lived to be 20, 1 was a Black Lab Husky mix and the other was a German Shepherd mix that looked like a wolf. The cat was an indoor cat and lived to be 22. Having to euthanize a sick pet that is only almost 7 kills me. I admit I do not handle death well since my mother’s passing 7 years ago. Animals have always been hard on me, I’ve always had a special connection with them. Even the most aggressive animals change around me. (This was observed by several other people I’m not delusional) I’ve given CPR to several dogs but no humans. I have more compassion and empathy for animals than humans. Maybe because what you see is what you get. You know in the wild it’s survival of the fittest. The other animals don’t lie to you, if you’re the weak one then guess what? You’re gone. But some do know about a love and loyalty so fierce they would kill for it. I have found that lacking in the Society around me.

My dad was sobbing uncontrollably this morning when I told him we had to let our Chihuahua go. This man was in the Navy, has tattoos on his forearms like Popeye and worked a blue collar job. But he loved that dog. He would hold him in his arms like a baby and sing to him some made up song he thought was funny. Pookie would only respond to my voice which is kind of high pitched and a little cartoonish. My father would have to imitate me to get him to come in from outside. I would hide and laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks and I started coughing. Pookie slept with my dad every night curled up next to his head on his pillow. When I was feeling extremely low Pookie would somehow know. He would look at me and then run as fast as he could to jump in my lap and lick my eyes where tears had started. I have since read that Chihuahuas are the best dogs for people with Bipolar Disorder because they can sense their moods. I know Pookie could.

A few people have already expressed their opinions that “it’s just a dog”. No, he wasn’t. He was family. He helped more than most of my actual family.

Did my sister answer her phone? No. Her father is in a ball crying and I’m right along with him and she doesn’t answer her phone. Am I surprised? No. My father has cried in front of me a total of 5 times in 42 years. He doesn’t show emotion easily. I called my brother in law and he said ” I don’t know what you expect her to do about any of it”. How about just calling your f**king father and offering support instead of leaving it all to me as usual? My sister doesn’t care about animals and apparently she doesn’t care about her family either.

I will cry, scream, and grieve for as long as it takes. He was my dog, my best friend, and I loved him. If the rest of the world doesn’t understand I feel sorry for you.

Things That Make Me Angry

When my mother passed away several years ago relatives took it upon themselves to take pictures and other things that didn’t belong to them. It was under the assumption that we would get them back because they were doing a memorial table. I personally never saw any of it again. I guess my sister has and got some of it back. This is because she speaks up. Takes charge and tells it like it is or at least her version of how it is. It’s sad that I have to take photos of photos to have memories of my mother and even some great art my father did that she took from the house. My memory has suffered immensely. Except when it comes to things I want to forget. I can’t remember how to spell words that used to come to me so easily before. I get lost every time I leave the house and I’m using my GPS. Finding words in a conversation is embarrassing when you’re standing there and can’t think of the word “sail boat” even when you’re looking at one. I get frustrated and upset so the stuttering and shaking starts, then I’m embarrassed so tears well up in my eyes and I have to leave wherever I am. So these are photos I took. One is of my mother the other is a drawing my father did in the Navy. I’m not sure where my mom is it could be Fayettville, North Carolina where she was born.