‘How ’bout remembering your divinity’
I broke my bridge.
Stupid stress eating.
This is going to be a $5,000 adventure, but that’s not the point of this madness installment.
My dentist moved. Right across from the last hospital I put Mom in.
As I made that all-too-familiar turn from Don Ross onto Militree, “Thank U” came on.
It was well before work hours. I planned to get the initial exam out of the way (as they like to jab you for three to four visits, because they make more money that way) and go work at the place with the good breakfast margaritas.
Which I did. For a while.
I was feeling a way about being up in Joopiter again. Seeing all the restaurants Mom loved and the medical supply store that was such a pain in the ass to drive to. And now here I was … with no one to buy for.
How ’bout me enjoying the moment for once.
Two days ago would have been my grandparents’ 74th wedding anniversary.
Yesterday was the 18th anniversary of Grampy’s death.
Today is Thanksgiving Eve. A day I have ALWAYS worked too late and driven my mother NUTS because all the shopping and the prepping had to wait till the last minute.
Not today.
I mean, I should have done this when she was alive and well. But I said fuck it, mental health afternoon ahoy.
How ’bout them transparent dangling carrots.
I’ve worked in this industry 21-ish years now. I’ve always worked late into and over the holidays.
I hate myself that it took my mother dying to get a fucking grip.
Like, somewhere she’s probably saying why didn’t you give ME some of that time.
How ’bout grieving it all one at a time.
Even if we got the shopping done over the weekend, she had to do all the cleaning and prepping.
I mean, that was our partnership. I drove and paid. She made everything magical.
Her end of the deal was MUCH more laborious.
Anyway, I have to miss a meeting monday for Dentist Visit No. 2. And oh, hahahah, I am going away the next day. OOPS.
How ’bout me enjoying the moment for once.
I used all my vacation days in October and November. ALL of them.
That’s been my custom the last couple years. Previously I lost them. Glad to have ended THAT tradition.
There’s never really a good time to take time off. But by the end of the year, I’m burnt out and worn out.
And this year — the year my Mom and my Cocoa died … and the populace elected motherfucking fascist ass tRump again, JFC — I’m done. I’m cooked. I hate EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.
I’m not sad I have to miss this Monday meeting. Though it occurs to me that I’ve missed five out of the last six weeks’ worth of meetings with my boss. This will be 6/6.
How ’bout that ever elusive kudo.
I finished writing my performance reviews. HR was happy with them. Now to deliver them. And to wait for the inevitable follow-up question that I can’t answer.
In any event, as I drove around my old work neighborhood, I thought of all the people in our industry who have died.
Our beloved receptionist Susan … our beloved copywriter Jesse … my beloved Chip (from Phillips) … the legend Myles (though he promoted Erika way too many times to the top of that company) … the truly legendary copywriters Clayton and Dan … etc.
And then there are the ones who’ve gotten sick. I’m thinking of L. in particular. Who kept us all organized, sane and on track … and now, who’s there to take care of her? (Also, who the hell is supposed to take care of us now?!)
One day they were all busting their asses … and the next day, they weren’t at the office and/or on this mortal plane.
I don’t know that I’ll see L. again. And that makes me sad.
She sent me a ginormous bouquet when my mom passed. And I don’t even know what to do for her when I’m not even supposed to know what I know.
Anyway. She sure as hell didn’t fuck off the day before Thanksgiving. Even though she had a million personal details to attend to. You never heard about those.
My intention for this coming year is to have the social life to match the amazing wardrobe I’ve amassed.
I think a secondary intention should be to be known for having the time of my life.
Not just for all the sadness that will never leave my body.
How ’bout no longer being masochistic
How ’bout remembering your divinity
How ’bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out
How ’bout not equating death with stopping.
I gotta say, it was nice not going to a single grocery store in the last week. I went to Victoria’s Secret and Altar’d State and several TJ Maxx stores to buy a winter wardrobe. And saw “Wicked.” And ate sushi and cake in the parking lot.
I miss Momma’s stuffing balls something awful. But maybe I’ll try to make them next year. Too freaking painful right now to even think about it.