Today I received a friend request from the “Mr Big” of my life. I almost fell off my chair when I saw his name in my inbox.
There was a point in my life when I thought I would want to know how he’s doing forever.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Yesterday an aunt and uncle surprised us for a quick visit. This is the first time they've been here since my Godmother died. We used to do dinner with them at the same restaurant — tradition, you know?
As we were talking about where we would go to dinner, that restaurant came up. It made me choke up. We haven't been there since the last time they were here. We went with Gina and my Godfather. She and I split a beer and I got her drunk. Only fair, she gave me my first sip of beer!
In a move out of character for my mom, she told them the true story. That I've to spoken to him in two years. She didn't try to gloss it over and make it pretty. She told them that if they saw where he left her they wouldn't want to see him either, so they agreed to lunch with him today — without me.
I felt such a sense of relief. And it make me feel like my mom really understands how I feel about it. I still miss Gina so much.
Well, yes, I suppose I am. But, really, what is age? And when someone is in need of comfort, does it really matter who or what provides it?
I've slept with Schlep for about seven years. I got him when I was in the depths of my depression. I just felt like I needed something to hold. A security blanket of sorts.
Trust me, I felt a little silly. But Schlep got me through some really rough nights.
And now? He's more of a habit. An arm pillow of sorts.
Gigi was very threatened by him for a long time. Now she knows she's alpha dog around here, so even she sleeps on him sometimes. It makes me smile.
I truly believe I have some of the best friends in the whole world.
I am grateful that Sandy came early to keep me from throttling my brother. Her conversations helped keep the mood light. I am forever thankful for her support and friendship.
And for my friend Linda. For braving her own cancer war to sit and keep us company. And for bringing me lunch. And dessert.
For Elsa, our Komen friend. For the gift basket, news on the free prosthesis, visiting during her lunch hour and for also bringing me lunch!
For my Oktoberfest friends who have listened to my fears and offered their prayers. They lift me up.
For the many who continue to call to check on her. And me.
For the cards and flowers and Vox comments.
I thank you all.
I had dinner with an old friend tonight. We've always been forthright with each other. We talk openly about depression and faith and other topics I wouldn't dare so deeply venture into with anyone else.
Tonight he shared a piece of his past with me. A private, painful part of his life. In that moment all the puzzle pieces snapped together and everything about him made perfect sense.
I thanked him for telling me. I'm honored that my friendship is worthy of his trust.
We went to her doctor yesterday. It was bad. The doctor said she'd never seen mom cry before. She recommended two MRIs: one hip and one back (which we did today), plus a trip to an orthopedic surgeon. It was also the first time she suggested maybe mom shouldn't live alone anymore. Not a directive. A mention.
Today we went for the MRIs. That was terrible. Mom has been stoic my whole life. If something hurt her I never knew. So to see her cry from the pain now makes me feel l like vomiting. It was a pretty hard two hours.
I am meeting my girlfriends in Orlando this week and had to change my schedule so I can be here Monday for the appointment with the surgeon. Then another visit with her primary that Friday. I'm guessing she knows mom's going to need some talking into if surgery is the recommendation.
Last week, one of my friends was in an accident. Actually, she flipped her car. The kind of accident we've all seen and passed by thinking, "How in the world did they do that?"
Today I drove by that place. I saw the remainder of some sand barrels she took out. It made me instinctively bring my hand to my mouth. In horror. Kind of the way I felt when I saw the picture of the car. Upside down. In the middle lane of the highway. Facing the wrong way.
When I saw the picture of the car, I knew it was only by the grace of God that she walked away with just a few scratches and bruises. Just a few more inches and her head . . .
I did today what I wanted to do when I saw the picture. I cried.
See, she's putting on a brave front. And so the rest of us are too. But I almost lost one of my very best friends last week. One of "my people" as they call each other on Grey's Anatomy.
I don't know what I would've done. And I thank God that I didn't have to find out.
Anak, a 31-year-old Orang Utan, holds her five-day-old baby Apie in her arms in Ouwehands Zoo in Rhenen, central Netherlands, July 31, 2007. The baby was born in captivity at the zoo. The zoo participates in the European Endangered Species Programme (EEP) , a European breeding program to save the endangered Orang Utans from extinction. REUTERS/Michael Kooren (NETHERLANDS)
I was in my car at 12:03 am. People cheered as we left with our books.
I read till 3:30 am. I forced myself to quit. I think it still took an hour to fall asleep.
I've been awake since 9:15 am and am on my way to my reading chair.
I will leave the house for lunch.
And I will finish the book today.