I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right
I’d say I forgot that Mom and I used to go to Delmonico on Dec. 9, but I don’t forget much. And I hope I never forget.
I haven’t posted much in the past six (holy hell) months since she passed.
You can either find me on the couch or out of state. There are no in-betweens. I’m either in a pit of depression or else trying to outrun it.
At least my step count gets averaged out. 20 or 20,000, take your pick.
In any event, I spent the days leading up to THIS Dec. 9 on Wall Street.
Long story, but a good one.
I also spent four days walking past Delmonico on Beaver Street. And my tears freezing to my cheeks every damn time.
The whole being located on Beaver Street was hilarious. Mom always called us “Twin Beaves” when we dressed alike — completely unaware of what the other was doing, mind you.
Twin Beaves used to make me cringe so hard. Now I would give anything to hear her say that.
I already got to the Orlando location this year for Mom’s birthday. Still the hardest I’ve cried all year. And that’s saying something.
As it is a time for thinking about the less fortunate, I just took a swing over to Cindy’s twitter, since I know she loves it so much.
Her “last post” (as if she ever goes away, hah) is a repost of her getting to Delmonico’s in 2019. Looking down her nose at it, actually.
What a petty, vile piece of shit you have to be to continually shit on something because it was special to me and my family.
I’m not going to die on the hill that she could have been the victim/hero of the whole five years ago mess. (Instead she chose to be the villain.) But she’s welcome to.
I will, however, Luigi her or anyone on the hill that the absolute best person to ever grace any Delmonico (and this world) will never get to do that again.
I am what a loved, proud daughter looks like. In case anyone was curious.