Tis The Season To Piss Right Off
I'm having a real hard time with this Christmas thing. REALLY hard. I just don't want to do it. I'm usually the one bubbling over with Christmas spirit, driving everyone nuts with Oh Holy Night and far too much enthusiasm. But it's gone. I've tried, but it's just not there...I have to force this and it's a fucking rat race nightmare piece of shit. There, that feels better.
Tonight, as I sit in front of my computer listening to Matthew Good (right now it's "99% Of Us Is Failure"), I glance over at a picture I have here on the wall of my Mom and it hits me (again). The tears, the headache, the aching sorrow that comes with the realization that it's really true. I'm never going to see her again. Ever. Christmas is over kids. I hate it.
Yet through this picture, she's right here. My beautiful Mom, sitting on the handydart bus with all the other strokers as they toured around, looking at lights. A goofy picture...the guy beside her is smiling like there's no tomorrow. I wonder why Dad and I weren't there with her? She looks so alone, so out of place...but making the best of it like she always did. She was a trooper...she loved life. Fun. Laughter. Lights. Christmas. Music. Jokes. People. And now I want to shut it all the fuck off. (Yeeha, bet you're glad you showed up?).
Life wasn't kind to her. She worked hard her whole life and was hit by a debilitating stroke when she was my age. Then brain cancer. But there she is in the picture, smiling her cute little smile....just along for the ride.
It was two years ago that we took her to the palliative ward knowing, full well, that she wouldn't return home again. But I never really believed it. I'd always been able to fix things up. Dad and I could do it - will her back home.
She suffered a great deal and that's the part that really kills. Although I mostly just think of the happiness...sometimes the awful sound of her moans as they moved her come creeping back in and gnaw at my heart.
Somehow I think that I'll always associate this time of year with the horrible memory of my Mom going away to die. That some of the sadness and devastation that I felt that day as I sat on the floor under an unlit tree and listened to Matt's House Of Smoke and Mirrors over and over will always claw away at me and remind me not to be too happy.
I'm a mother, so I'm thankful for what I do have in life and I keep it in perspective. I mean, it's about my kids and they're reason enough to be happy. And Mothers die. But whoever said time heals all wounds was an insensitive numbnuts....not this kind of wound....it just festers and every once in a while it boils over into an ugly mess. All it takes is a song and a glance at a picture.
My Dad is a hero. He does everything for the kids and I and is there, unconditionally. Always, without fail. We're his entire world and there's nothing he wouldn't do for us. But I'm learning that he just doesn't listen. He fixes things, but he's not a good listener. Mom and I had such a bond and she'd make me laugh. She'd listen, and make me laugh by saying something ridiculously true. When I had doubts and uncertainties, as I do now, she'd just reassure me that I was strong and I'd be o.k. She wouldn't fix things, but she let me know that I could.
I'll be o.k. Maybe.
Oh yeah, then I'm unemployed.
(Edit: I'll be over this guys. It's been a really stressful day - work, search for work, rushed to p/u Linds to arrive early for a doctor's appointment that they took us in for 20 minutes late. Which made us late for Linds' dentist appointment immediately afterward. Then had to take the car in. Get a tree. A way too big fucking tree that barely fit in the rig. Then had Ty call when I barely had my coat off, to tell me of his awful day. It's one of those days. Is it a full moon? I think it is. Anyhow, I apologize for such a downer post at this festive time. But I'm me/honest and can only post from the heart. You think this is bad, you should see me when I PMS. Oh, and here's the picture and the song that really started it all tonight)
House Of Smoke And Mirrors
(Oh and sorry for all the swearing. It feels good. And I just watched the last Trailer Park Boys ever so, apparently, I am one now)
Tonight, as I sit in front of my computer listening to Matthew Good (right now it's "99% Of Us Is Failure"), I glance over at a picture I have here on the wall of my Mom and it hits me (again). The tears, the headache, the aching sorrow that comes with the realization that it's really true. I'm never going to see her again. Ever. Christmas is over kids. I hate it.
Yet through this picture, she's right here. My beautiful Mom, sitting on the handydart bus with all the other strokers as they toured around, looking at lights. A goofy picture...the guy beside her is smiling like there's no tomorrow. I wonder why Dad and I weren't there with her? She looks so alone, so out of place...but making the best of it like she always did. She was a trooper...she loved life. Fun. Laughter. Lights. Christmas. Music. Jokes. People. And now I want to shut it all the fuck off. (Yeeha, bet you're glad you showed up?).
Life wasn't kind to her. She worked hard her whole life and was hit by a debilitating stroke when she was my age. Then brain cancer. But there she is in the picture, smiling her cute little smile....just along for the ride.
It was two years ago that we took her to the palliative ward knowing, full well, that she wouldn't return home again. But I never really believed it. I'd always been able to fix things up. Dad and I could do it - will her back home.
She suffered a great deal and that's the part that really kills. Although I mostly just think of the happiness...sometimes the awful sound of her moans as they moved her come creeping back in and gnaw at my heart.
Somehow I think that I'll always associate this time of year with the horrible memory of my Mom going away to die. That some of the sadness and devastation that I felt that day as I sat on the floor under an unlit tree and listened to Matt's House Of Smoke and Mirrors over and over will always claw away at me and remind me not to be too happy.
I'm a mother, so I'm thankful for what I do have in life and I keep it in perspective. I mean, it's about my kids and they're reason enough to be happy. And Mothers die. But whoever said time heals all wounds was an insensitive numbnuts....not this kind of wound....it just festers and every once in a while it boils over into an ugly mess. All it takes is a song and a glance at a picture.
My Dad is a hero. He does everything for the kids and I and is there, unconditionally. Always, without fail. We're his entire world and there's nothing he wouldn't do for us. But I'm learning that he just doesn't listen. He fixes things, but he's not a good listener. Mom and I had such a bond and she'd make me laugh. She'd listen, and make me laugh by saying something ridiculously true. When I had doubts and uncertainties, as I do now, she'd just reassure me that I was strong and I'd be o.k. She wouldn't fix things, but she let me know that I could.
"I've fallen asleeeeee-eeeep again
and when I waaaaa-aaaake up you won't be here"
I'll be o.k. Maybe.
Oh yeah, then I'm unemployed.
(Edit: I'll be over this guys. It's been a really stressful day - work, search for work, rushed to p/u Linds to arrive early for a doctor's appointment that they took us in for 20 minutes late. Which made us late for Linds' dentist appointment immediately afterward. Then had to take the car in. Get a tree. A way too big fucking tree that barely fit in the rig. Then had Ty call when I barely had my coat off, to tell me of his awful day. It's one of those days. Is it a full moon? I think it is. Anyhow, I apologize for such a downer post at this festive time. But I'm me/honest and can only post from the heart. You think this is bad, you should see me when I PMS. Oh, and here's the picture and the song that really started it all tonight)
House Of Smoke And Mirrors
(Oh and sorry for all the swearing. It feels good. And I just watched the last Trailer Park Boys ever so, apparently, I am one now)
Labels: When life hands you lemons squeeze the fuck out of those fuckers until you can't squeeze any harder
posted by Deb at 10:29 PM
3 Comments:
... you mean "to piss right off" as in "be annoyed"; not in the more versatile British sense, which, as you phrased it, would mean "to evacuate the area" (e.g. by going on holiday or vacation if you prefer...)
you need a holiday by the sounds of things, young lady. And I mean "vacation"-type holiday. Not holly-festivals with trying family experiences version. Barbados looks good this time of year... hey and you could nobble the lottery with your job...(!)
Hope your next day is better, Deb. Hang in there.
I hope things look better for you today, Deb. And the right job will come along.
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