Anyway, it has been quite a while, and I had a lot of stories that I wanted to post. Unfortunately, I have since forgotten. I still have the vegetable story on back-up, but again, that's for another time. I apologize if this post gets to be too much, but I think this is a therapy post. I don't mind others peeking in on my therapy, though. That may even help too?
Ten years ago, Mom departed this world six months after Dad did. February 11th, 2002 was the day that she drifted off. It was a Monday, and I left for school that morning without giving her a kiss goodbye. It was perhaps the only time that I had not done so. I don't know why, but I remember looking at her in the morning and thinking that she looked so peaceful. We had had a rough week earlier; she had coughed up blood a lot and didn't really eat much. Even though Mom's doctor gave her 2 months, her hospice nurse called me and said that she didn't think Mom would make it that long. She told me that I should get her things in order. At 17, that was a harsh blow. I never really thought that I would have to deal with it so soon. No matter the circumstances, I had to deal with it. That Monday morning, I decided to let her sleep because it didn't matter how long she had; it only mattered that she was at peace.
At school, I went through the motions and went to class. During my desktop publishing class, the principal and the dean came down to the classroom and called Dave to the office. This was serious because they always paged students; they NEVER retrieved them in person. Worried about Dave, our friends and I waited. After 20 minutes, the principal and dean returned. They asked for me. I got to the office and Dave was sitting there with a look... that look... on his face. It was the kind of look that told me I'm sorry that your world is gone. His look reached out to me so as to comfort me, even though there was no comfort to be had. They asked me to sit, and the principal and dean began to tell me that my Aunt Terri called. She had told them that my mom was "either dead or dying." Sure, they could have phrased it better, but you can't really soften that blow. They called Neil to the office, and the three of us sped to my house to get there. I say sped because I don't think I've ever witnessed anyone driving THAT fast on THAT road (besides my dad). We arrived and I walked in. My Aunt was there, and all she said was, "She's gone, Danny." The lawyer was supposed to come out that morning to square away everything, but she didn't make it that long. I missed my chance to say goodbye, just as I did with Dad.
My dad had suffered for much of his life. Born in the Great Depression and raised as a cowboy (the last of the breed according to my uncle), he joined up with the Air Force and served in Iceland during the Korean War. Slipping on some stairs during his service didn't seem like a big problem a the time, but later on he found out that it subsequently caused his back to deteriorate. 3 crushed vertebrae and 8 cracked vertebrae contributed to his paralysis from the waist down. I remember the last time he played catch with me. He drove his first scooter out into the yard and stood beside it and made sure that we could play. Oddly, it's the only time I really remember him playing catch with me. Mom assured me that we had played many times before. Anyway, as my dad's condition worsened, he was on full oxygen 24/7. The last few weeks of his life, his brain received progressively less oxygen, and we convinced him to go to the hospital. I had traveled to Michigan to see my brother earlier. Mom called and
With time passed, wounds heal. I sometimes get really emotional about Mom and Dad. I always call Aunt Terri on her birthday. Her birthday is February 11th, so it not only gives me a chance to say "Happy Birthday," but it also gives me a chance to talk about Mom, her only sister. This year was something... ten years past, and things still kinda suck, but I feel like I've made the best of it. My cousin sent me a facebook message to call him on Friday (Feb 10th). My spidey sense went off. This wasn't normal. This was important. I didn't want to call, but I felt like I had to. I think I waited almost an hour until I called.
I didn't get to call Aunt Terri on her birthday. I didn't get to talk about Mom. I didn't get to say goodbye.
I met my uncle Jim for the first time this week. He was Terri's first husband. He had me confused with my brother. He thought I was him. We've never met. He told me that he and my dad used to go hunting all the time. I didn't know my dad liked to hunt. He told me that Mom lived with him and Aunt Terri in North Carolina. I didn't know that either. It's weird how even ten years after they're gone, my parents are still teaching me things. I guess that's their After Glow.
