Godammit, I’m Mad!

In the last six months, I have gone in and out of various states that are not stages, just different emotional terrain. Shock, disbelief, rage, denial, guilt, and unspeakable agony. It isn’t better as time passes. If anything it is worse.

I continue writing this blog because it seems like something normal and productive to cling to, but I’m not sure if it’s doing me any good.  When I’m not at my computer, I am mostly catatonic or crying. I reject all talk of “getting over it.” I don’t want to hear that he “is with me.” He is not with me. That is the problem.  He is  gone. And I miss him so much.

My husband and my teenager need me to stick around. It would be too brutal for me to act on my yearning to go find Max. I guess I’m not at the level of desperation where you stop caring about the hearts you will break.

Meanwhile, life goes on around me at home, and our roof is leaking badly enough to cause the ceiling to crumble in the kitchen. It falls in chunks and finer particles that cover the countertops. The roof is around 30 years old now.

My Cyber-sisters Kate and Queens Marie and Michelle have teamed up with everyone’s favorite jewelry designer and raconteur Wendy Brandes to raise funds for a new roof. I am so humbled by their kindness that I feel I must get in the spirit of things by showing off the adorable logo that Michelle designed:

The picture links directly to Wendy’s order form.

A roof is a symbol of shelter and stability. It would be a positive undertaking for my family and maybe even for me.

I love that our little community can be a force for good. We are all elevated by acts of compassion! Thank you sweetie pies for wanting to help.

*If you know anyone who would like to own one of these silver woolf necklaces, pass it on.

Today is my mom’s birthday and I’m burning a candle for her.

Ever since she died nine years ago, I’ve had a much better relationship with her. I read somewhere that the relationship you have with your mom is in your head, not in any temporal or objective reality. So now that she’s gone, I finally feel loved by her. I feel tenderness toward her, instead of fear or anger. I forgive her.

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, she was told she had six months to live. My sister and I got hospice care for her, because she wanted to die in her own bed.

A couple of times, she asked me to help kill her. Each time, I explained that I just couldn’t consider it. I did what I could to provide comfort. My sister and I often spent the night with her, and we tried to conceal our anxiety and grief. She declined over the six months, becoming delusional at times and suspecting us of hiring fake rabbis or switching her drinking glass. Near the end, I chewed up food for her and fed it to her like a baby bird.

Finally, the last morning arrived and her beautiful Jamaican nurse called us to hurry over to say goodbye. Her death throes were terrifying and unbearable to watch, but we had to bear it. My sister and I each held one of her hands as she died. The nurse recited the Lord’s Prayer. My sister sobbed hysterically throughout.

Afterwards, we sat in my mom’s bedroom, paralyzed with shock.  Other family members arrived. I turned around in my chair and opened a drawer, not really thinking about what I was doing. In the drawer was her will, and nothing else.

I picked up the will and read the first line aloud. “I, _________, being of sound mind, hereby exclude my two daughters from this will. I do so deliberately, and should they contest it, they will receive not more than one dollar each.”

Mom, you were a funny one. Happy birthday.

My father is a man who likes to get married and have children. Of my five half-siblings, I have only bonded with Michael, possibly because we were the “black sheep” of our families or maybe just because he’s so lovable.

Michael has more tattoos that you’ll ever want to see. Not only that, he is a butcher. Meat is his calling.

When my teenager was little and I got a full-time job, Michael took care of him every day. When anyone has hurt me, Michael has offered to kill them.  Once, he married my best friend, but they were just being silly and now they know better.

Michael came to visit over the weekend and he brought his beautiful girlfriend Shelly, who is studying engineering and drives a big motorcycle. She is a great girl. I didn’t realize the extent of her greatness until she sent me this picture of a dead squirrel she saw in the street near my house!

May Shelly and Michael be together forever, and may all squirrels be dead ones!

*UPDATE:

Michael just got his own “ma haine dure” tattoo, as well as an International No symbol that should cover everything else. Great job, Mike! xo