She'd had two back to back heart attacks one early Saturday morning...and never recovered. She was 81. I was heart broken.
I woke up that Tuesday morning...and instead of readying for work, a sense of doom fell over me and I sat on the side of my bed in a trance. My heart knew what my mind didn't want to face...today wasn't going to be a good day for her.
My sister called me and said that my father had summoned us to the hospital...that it didn't look good. I already knew that. I got dressed and we went to Mt. Vernon Hospital.
She'd died just moments before we got there.
I went to her bedside and hugged her and cried the hardest wail I've ever cried. Her body was there. The machines were moving her chest as if she were breathing. Such cruel necessity.
I was never the same.
Our family was never the same.
I still think my father has lost what small piece of mind that the drugs and alcohol didn't claim before his sobriety.
We're a lost clan today...at least on the paternal side.
I'm a lover AND a fighter...I like the folks most don't. I walk to the beat of a drummer....who isn't REALLY in the band, but got the best beats. I am big on love..."I see you" where you're at...hopefully this blog helps you to see me, as well. Either Love me...or leave me alone!
Having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. - a quote by Dinah Craik