Forgive me readers for I have sinned. It has been twenty-two days since I've seen my mother.
Is there absolution for that?
WHY is it so hard to go over there?
Don't answer that, I know why.
The real question is:
WHY am I such a fecking baby about it?
My head is full of everything and nothing, deep thoughts that swim away as soon as I open a New Post, restless and guilty, and nestling up to the dull knife blade of melancholia.
Still I don't go.
I think back twenty years ago, when she was my age. What was she doing? Retired, back in her ancestral homeland of Florida, going to plays with Etta Mae, being the treasurer of TOPS, kids all raised, a few grandchildren, husband not totally sick yet. My grandmother was of sound, if cranky, mind and living independently.
Then I beat myself up a bit for not selling her house sooner. For not dropping the price sooner, for losing all that money. For not having the hindsight to see this was happening before it was too far gone. For not seeing the behavioral changes for what they were.
I KNOW. Stop.
This solves nothing, serves no purpose. Yet I do it anyway.
"...we don't tell each other all the little things that we need; we work our way around each other as we tremble and we bleed..."