Tag: death

The Death of OJ

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This morning we were idly chatting about Saturday morning type things. Husband asked me if I had heard that OJ died. I said no, but I saw this meme and I knew:

It’s so true. Let him go out in style. We were like the key age to remember this shit. I remember the trial VERY VIVIDLY. This was way bigger than Depp vs Heard.

Anyone who is sad about this shit can kick rocks. Motherfucker wrote a book called “If I Did It.” They had even filmed an interview for Fox called “O.J. Simpson: If I Did It, Here’s How It Happened.”

What a piece of shit. Also that Fox tried to pull that shit shows all their integrity. They did eventually air that interview anyway — so they never actually found any morals.

Death and Dreariness

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I need to post here more. I need to set up and email account that will auto post for me. I have things to say, just not easy to get them here. And when I get off work, I just want to zone the fuck out.

Tonight, I checked on the GoFundMe for Aric and Samantha “Sam” Hutchinson. A little over a week ago, they were in an accident right after their wedding. They were on a golf cart driving away from the wedding when a drunk driver hit them. She died at the scene in her wedding dress. To be honest, i was checking to see if he died too. Last I checked, he was in critical condition. Looks like he is home recovering. Abso-fucking-lutly tragic. If I were him, I’d never have wanted to survive.

Death has been on my mind. Obviously reading something like that just kills you. But I had a better death-related happenstance last week. I’ve always been bothered by Robin William’s suicide. Not just a little, severely bothered. I’ve been suicidal. I had an excellent plan. Thankfully, I decided to give psychiatric medication a shot before I called it. But I was there. As they say in the Princess Bride “at worst I’ll kill you in the morning.”

So like I know that darkness depth of loneliness. I’ve always been so troubled that Robin freaking Williams killed himself. Like that happy man who everyone loved — if he couldn’t make it, what chance have we? He could have called ANYONE and we’d have been there for him. So it’s just always weighed heavy on my heart.

By happenstance, I came across this article by his wife (link). He was dying. He had Lewy body disease, not that he knew the name of it at the time. It had taken away his mental health. It had taken away his genius. His activeness. It had taken everything from him. He knew he was dying and quickly at that. He had a lucid Saturday with his wife and they had a wonderful day. She thought he might be getting better and then he killed himself on Monday. Tragic, of course. But he went out on his own terms. The state he was in was tragic.

But finding out that he wasn’t alone. He had his wife with him until the very end. And that it wasn’t a pit of loneliness. He was just speeding up the dying process. He was diagnosed by his brain. One of the worst cases of the disease ever seen. Half his dopamine receptors were completely gone. His entire brain was infected. He knew it was time.

And that lifted a heaviness I had. I know thats weird. But it did. I always mourned how he must have felt to do that. But knowing it wasn’t like that — it brightens my heart. He knew how loved he was. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t depression that took him. And he wasn’t alone.

RIP, Robin Williams. You are missed by many.

Also, K2’s mom was talking about how her mom had morbidly completely planned out her funeral to a tee 20 years before she died. So I’m about to post about that. I have a funeral plan. I think. Gotta run it by the husband. How much are life sized weeping angel statues?

Dear Mom,

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This photo was in my memories yesterday. Just one year ago. Wow. How could it just be one year? Look at my innocent little self. We have pool hair because it wasn’t so cool last year. We were painting modpodge pumpkins from a coloring book. One of us found the coloring book and I cut them out and stuck them on canvases for us to paint. The other canvases are still leaning against the wall behind the curtain where you put them. Look at us just having fun doing nonsense. And I was fresh and new in my job so I didn’t realize what a shit show it was yet! Ah, innocence.

It seems like years ago. Has the world turned over so much in just a single year? Nay, just 9 months. Damn.

I can’t stop looking at this photo. Just a year ago… Man I miss you. I put up Norbert yesterday and I couldn’t quite figure out where to put him just right. Last year we argued that I wanted him closer to the road and you wanted him closer to the house. So of course he had to go exactly where you said he should go again this year. But where was it exactly? A little more that way? It was a struggle. Today I found the Casper the Ghost Halloween mask you sewed me. Heh. It some how was in my normal non-holiday mask pile that I just washed and ironed.

I miss you so much.

There’s so much to tell you! Isn’t this weather crazy? So cool. I hope we have a long Fall. I got an appointment to get my goomba tattoo! You knew I wanted a sleeve but you didn’t know about the goomba. I know you’re not a fan of tattoos, But I also know you’d have blessed the goomba. I can just hear you saying that its so ME. It is, isn’t it? I’m super excited. Wish you could come along and you and K could take a picture of me getting it and then explore Nashville while they finish it up.

We’re gonna consult about the sleeve I want too. I really want Megan Massacre to do the portrait part and then have Devon Greig do the whole rest of the sleeve. They’re both amazing with color – I did my research. Jack is the center piece. Of course. My precious Jack. You didn’t know it, but he’s in stage 3 or 4 kidney failure. Terminal diagnosis, not reversible. Sucks. I feel like if you were here, it wouldn’t be so upsetting losing him. After you died I just couldn’t handle the thought of losing my precious so I actually took him to the vet. I know! He hated it! And it cost like $600. I know! But I had them run him for everything to make sure he was solid. Well, he’s not solid.

Hey while I’m typing this, someone not part of the family, is giving sis1 shit for posting about Covid vaccines. Apparently, we know this person who thinks it’s romantic that their BF came to take care of them with Covid and now they’re in the hospital holding hands and getting treatment together. How romantic! Fucking dumbasses. No one takes this shit seriously and it’s so infuriating. Yeah it only kills a few people. Like you. It killed you. The only death out of the — how many are we up to? $600k yet? Yeah but you.

I get so mad at these anti-vaxxer morons. You’d tell me to shut up. I’m over here stirring the pot and you’d certainly call me and tell me to stop. But you know what, CODA and my therapist tell me that it’s not my responsibility how people hear what I say and how they choose to respond.

Anyway, there’s a whole shit pile of bad I could catch you up on. I mean the world’s gone to shit, Mom! Like absolute shit show dumpster fire over here. But there’s so much good on the horizon that I wish I could talk to you about!

Like the tattoo, so exciting. When better than when I’m coming up on 40? Oh oh oh oh — OH MY GOD. You don’t know WHY I’m finally getting my tattoos! Mom, I’m getting my arms fixed! Mr. C’s totally cool with it. I’m taking all of December off because I’m having my stomach and arms done! It’s going to be amazing. I don’t know how I’ll do it without you here, but I’ll do it. You’d be so excited for me. I’m sure you’d talk down all my worries. Because this is something I’ve wished for and worked so hard for.

And I’m doing CODA every Monday and crossfit three time a week! Can you believe it? I know you can. You’d tell me as you’ve told me before. When I want something, I go at it and I get it. As far as the surgery, I can see you telling me I’m prepared for everything. Like when I surprised you with a shit ton of Aldi bags. Or not surprised you, because as you said then — you know I prepare for everything. Though you still doubt me sometimes. Like you’d have 100% supported me taking today off over my hurting knee. You’d tell me I’m going too hard. But dude, crossfits expensive. I can’t pay that much and not get my moneys worth. And the more fit I am, the better I’ll recover from surgery 🙂 Just two more months.

Miss you, Momma. More than you can imagine.

Not a speaker review

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So I bought a bluetooth speaker for the pool. Nothing extravagant, just a little speaker. I was going to write my review for it here. I’m trying to get a post AND an Amazon review out of my reviews. However, this one would start rather depressingly if I were honest. Not exactly good for the helpful votes. See I bought the speaker, because I’m lonely.

I’ve said many times that mom was my pool buddy. I’ve been worried about missing her a lot so one thing I did was buy the speaker. That way I could have music by the pool. And it works. It’s less lonely singing along to my Pandora station while I float around. But I still miss mom. And yet, I feel I don’t miss her enough.

I suppose it could be massive amounts of antidepressants, of course. But I feel like I’m just not sad enough. Yet, there is an infinite sadness if I stop long enough to look for it. It’s so weird. It’s like I don’t miss her in my day to day. My day to day goes on. I do what I do. It’s like life has not changed (even though, rationally, it has) — like she was just deleted all of the sudden. Like maybe she was never there — just *poof* gone.

There doesn’t seem to be an intrinsic piece of evidence of her existence. Sure there’s pictures and her room and her urn… But those are only evidence someone existed. They’re evidence a human was here. Of course I had a mother. Bot there’s not evidence that SHE was here. That that special person I had was here. And I feel like my continuing on day to day without more mourning than I have is a injustice to her. Like an insult. Like she can be replaced by a radio.

There’s no epic conclusion. I don’t have some wrap-up planned here. Much like life, this post doesn’t really end. It’s just me blabbering about.

Grief is weird. And there’s no one to point me in the right direction.

Fuck this Mother’s Day

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I wish I could skip this Mother’s Day. My mom isn’t here any more. She was the most awesome person ever and she’s gone. I have no mom to celebrate anymore so I don’t wanna participate. Leave me out, guys.

But I can’t. Mr C has a mom. I handmade her a nice card. We chose a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to her. Tomorrow we’ll talk to her and wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. And she is the mother of my favorite person so that’s fine. But it feels so wrong. She’s not my mom! She’ll never be close to being my mom. My mom dead. I can’t send my mom flowers. I can’t call my mom. Here I am doing all these things for my mother in law and nothing for my own mother. It feels dirty. Who’s gonna celebrate my mom? Who’s gonna acknowledge that fuck this day, my moms dead! She’s gone! Who’s gonna acknowledge my heartbreak? Fuck this shit. Fuck Mother’s Day. They stole my mom from me.

I did buy some plants in her honor. The other day I was at Home Depot and picked up a Hibiscus for the back stoop. Mom bought two big Hibisus for the front porch last year and I killed them over the winter. So here’s to mom! Then Friday I picked out some flowers for the planter on the stoop. Mom would have long had already planted that stoop full of blooming flowers. The front porch too! Lord she’d probably be putting shit down the front stairs by now. So in honor of mom, I did the back stoop. It looked nice. I posted it on facebook with a nice message about being blessed to have had an amazing mother who is so very missed.

I didn’t do the front because the front is a pain in the ass. I hate having to water the flowers out there. Plus, because of the columns and the path of the sun, one side gets way more sun than the other. But then I was at Ace Hardware and they had ferns. I casually asked how much they were. They were only $12. Momma loved a good fern. I could just hear her telling me how great they’d look on the porch. How can I leave such a beautiful porch bare? Such a shame. She never even asked me before planting it every year — she’d just come home with plants for the front porch and then I had plants to take care of. She’d plant elaborate mixed pots. Multiple pots for layers of flowers. *sigh* Mom would have bought those ferns so so did I.

Now they look like they need plant stands don’t they? I guarantee you mom would have them in plant stands before I wake up tomorrow. I’d wake up and she’d be like “see if you notice anything different!” She’d have to force hint the porch for me cause that’s a broad ask.

I love you, momma. I loved you with all my heart. I miss you so much. And I AM thankful that I got to have the kind of mom that leaves such a big gap in my heart. I’m glad I got to have you. Rest in peace, mom.

My blog, My therapist

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I’m sad.  Just sad.  Mostly about momma.  I just really hate my job and my mom is dead.  I sit on her bed and look at the pictures on her memorial card and think “I’ll never see her again.”  It’s almost an unfathomable thought.  My brain can’t wrap around it.  I can’t really grasp that it’s true. 

I’ll never come by this bed to find her laying across it (never the right way).  He having fallen asleep, not under the covers, but under a throw while watching QVC.  I’ll never give her a hug and wish her goodnight and see if there’s anything I can get her before I go to bed.  I’ll never wake and look down at the dining room to find her painting at the table – or see her having coffee on the stairs by the pool.  Or just wake up to find she’s run off to Old Navy or Ollie’s or Old Time Pottery to return later with gifts.  Always gifts.  A shirt or a pillow for my pool chairs, maybe a float or a cute kitchen towel, or lord help – a plant for the back or the flower beds or the porch or god-knows-where.  Momma never showed up without some small gift.  She loved to go shop and find the best clearance deals.  “I got you something.”  No wonder my love language is gifts.  She was always like that. 

There’s just an empty chasm of sadness beside me.  Nothing to be said for it.  Nothing to be done for it.  I thought about scheduling an appointment with my therapist, but what’s the point?  He can’t make me un-sad.  No one can say or do anything to seal this chasm.  I’m not self-harming or life-interferingly depressed.  I’m just really fucking sad.  I’ve honored her memory.  I made a beautiful vase full of rose petals — all carefully saved and dried from the many flower arrangements that were sent as condolences.  Some roses from the funeral, some petals from the corsage I wore.  I sit on her bed and look at her infamous red glasses sitting there on a tray with the book she wrote, a picture she painted, the memorial card from the funeral and a small urn of ashes.  I wear her star sapphire on my right hand.  Mom on my right and my sweet husband on my left (via my wedding ring). My rocks.  It’s like they’re holding my hand when I need a nudge. 

I look at the star in the sapphire when it magically decides to appear.  I’ve had my own sapphire.  I know the magic well.  I bought us each these sapphires years ago when I got my first real job.  The biggest present I had ever given her at the time. I was determined she’d wear another star sapphire – like the one that was stolen in her childhood.  A story she had mournfully told me many times.  Now I wear her stone instead of mine.  The stone she wore so often and that shows up in most of her pictures.  When I see the star I wonder how often she looked at the same star with amazement at the beauty.  Something otherworldly about the stones transformation in the light. 

I called M the other day.  One of my best and dearest friends.  I needed to talk to someone else who lost their mother.  Someone who knows this sadness.  What did he do with it?  How did he cope?  How did he keep going? True to our natures he didn’t bullshit me.  He didn’t cope.  There was no healing.  Only learning to live with it.  Time doesn’t heal wounds it just makes you keep trudging on with your new normal until the pain is almost a numbness.  Simply because there is no choice.  His anger is still palpable and fresh.  As if she’d passed as recently as my own mother.  It was genuinely surprising to me. We were angry and sad together.  We talked for over an hour.  We joked about fake boobs and caught up with each other.  He lives so far away now.  We talked through my drive home, through the pharmacy drive thru and on into my coming home, greeting my cat, and doing my daily Animal Crossing errands.  Mr C did not come down when he heard me arrive.  M’s voice is extremely loud and boisterous, no doubt who I was talking to on speaker phone.  Mr C was glad we were talking, he knew I needed it.  As we wrapped up our conversation I asked him “what do I do?”  And as cliché as it sounds, I shit you not, he told me what any beloved body-hiding-friend would say.  He said “you call me, and we’ll be sad together.”

A new chapter

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Mom’s funeral was Monday. The service was perfect, the flowers were beautiful, there was no family drama. It was more than I could have hoped for. She would have loved it.

I took down the Christmas decorations in her room today. She would have never left them up this long. It would have been decorated for Valentines by now. I did not decorate it for Valentines Day. However, I did change out the Christmas for her bright orange and teal quilt. The cats favorite chair changed from a Christmas throw and pillow to a more summery combination.

It’s funny. When we take down Christmas in the house, it always seems so much colder and more sterile. Moms room doesn’t. It still feels comfy cozy.

I do feel a small sense of closure. Like healing can start now. Waiting over a month to hold the funeral was a heavy stress on all of us. Now it feels like the page has turned to a new chapter. Your favorite character just died but you keep reading.

Trying to keep my cool

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So mom’s funeral is Monday. This is my off Friday, so when I filled out my time card, I went ahead and entered bereavement leave for the funeral next week. I almost burst into tears.

I love time off. I hate working and in particular I hate my current job (don’t worry, I have something in the pipeline for May). So missing work is awesome. And free PTO? Sign me up! But bereavement leave… for my momma? I don’t want this. Not like this. I’ve joked about using bereavement leave in the past for my father because I’m a terrible human being — but my momma?

I guess it’s strange things that can trigger grief. K gave me a card I knew was from old coworkers with condolences and I didn’t even open it until I got home. Couldn’t afford to cry on my lunch break.

K said shes coming to the funeral. K, you so don’t need to drive two hours to come. I wont be able to see you and even if I did, I couldn’t give you the big hug you deserve and cry on you cause she was my momma. I’m crying as I type this. I’m so glad you at least knew her a little bit. I was so blessed to have such wonderful relationship with mom and I’m so blessed to have you as a best friend.

Alright, I’m gonna go hug the cat.

Heavy Sighs

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Missing mom is weird.  It’s been three weeks since we last spoke.  The last time we’d ever speak in this life.  I keep catching myself going “I’m gonna show this to mom” or “I haven’t called mom yet!” or getting up late and thinking “moms gonna rag me for sleeping so late and being late to work.”  I’m making mental notes about things I’ll tell her or talk to her about when we next talk.  I miss that connection and that outlet. 

But I’m not broken.  I’d never think I would handle her death this well.  I certainly didn’t expect it.  We were going to build mom an addition to our house.  I had it completely planned out and drawn up in sketches here or there.  We’d discussed it.  She wanted one of those step in tubs.  She’d have her own kitchenette.  It was going to mirror the dining room bay windows size and shape by the pool.  Creating a kind of courtyard.  She’d have her own home entrance and foyer on the side of the house.  And when we built it making a hallway through the storage room, I’d build in a closet for all that shit in the downstairs hall.  And there would be a wooden deck between the back doors.  I’d imagined I’d find her there a lot in the morning having coffee and tending her plants.

I miss her and I weep.  But it doesn’t feel like a massive Greek Tragedy that I think it should feel like.  The way it seems to be for the rest of my family.  They can’t talk about her without crying.  Can’t look at photos of her.  I like the memories the photos hold.  I don’t mind looking though them.  She always looked happy.  It makes me remember the trips and who took that photo.  I just ordered a 20×30 print of her sitting in a window looking out over the Fox Theater in Atlanta when I took her to see Third Days final concert tour.   I had planned to have her sign it or something.  But she won’t be here to sign it.  However, I will still have it hanging by my side of the bed.  Mom forever looking happily out the window. 

My family won’t even let me post the memorial date and time.  They’re “too upset” and “not ready.”  I don’t understand.  We’ve planned the memorial.  We’re having it, why is it weird to tell people when it is?  I completely don’t get it.  K said that maybe I’m just more in touch with my feelings and they’re not so they can’t look past themselves right now.  I can see that being true.  But shouldn’t I be more broken?  They’re all fucking puddles of tears over there.  Am I too medicated, perhaps?  Too many antidepressants?  Do I WANT to be more sad?  Should I be?  I just don’t know.  

I’ll never give her that house of her own.  We’ll never sit on the tanning ledge together again.  I imagine opening the pool this year with her gone will be a very difficult thing for me.  She loved my pool so much.  She’ll never sign the window portrait for me.  I can’t take her on a trip to a place she’s never been.  Or even a trip to a place she has been.  What will Florida be like without mom?  How will it be without her being awake before everyone having coffee on the balcony?  That’s just weird.  Should we even go?  Mom was the one who worshipped the Florida trip.

Yet I don’t feel like there are loose threads.  I don’t feel the carpet unraveling beneath me.  She had a better life than I’d even realized.  She touched so many people.   She knew I adored her and would do whatever I could for her.  I know she adored me and would do anything for me. 

I only had three touch stones.  Mr C, Mom, and my cat.  Mom was the strongest bond and now it’s lost.  And the cats in kidney failure.  And Mr C has his games. 

I keep thinking of when I worked on tanks.  “Always have three points of contact with the tank.”  Your ass, your hands, your feet, your stomach – just have at least 3 places of contact with your body and the tank at all times.  Don’t fall and break your ass on the company’s dime.  No standing willy nilly on the tanks – put your ass down.    

I had three points of contact with the Earth, life, whatever you want to call it.  And now one’s gone and one’s going.  Will I fall? I’m certainly not following directions.   I’ve never had good balance.  What will happen to me?  What will happen when I’m balancing on one foot and that foot has a bad day and just wants to play his games and be left alone?  Do I just go play Animal Crossing?  I get on every night to get my money tree and see if that bitch owl shows up.  But I’ve got over 6 million bells in the bank and she never gives me anything good anyway.  Fucking owl. 

Morbid but successful at cutting red tape.

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I’m surrounded by moms death. I’ve got so many gorgeous flower arrangements, my counter is a memorial now. In addition to making the music playlist, I’ve got to make the slideshow for her memorial. Which means all my texts, emails, and facebook messages are pictures of mom. But there’s also mundane stuff. Gotta shut down her debit card. Gotta cancel her phone line…

That last one is what I wanna talk about. I called Verizon to have her line removed from my bill. They, naturally, have to give me bullshit. They have to try to sell me on keeping the line. I get it, it’s your job. So the guy tells me he has to read me a few offers before he can remove the line. I reply very flatly that “there’s no point, the user is dead.”

To his credit, the operator gave me zero bullshit after that and immediately removed the line with his condolences. I wonder if they get that often?