My beloved Aunt Charlotte
My mother sat with me in her living room this afternoon not 24 hours after hearing that her cancer won’t kill her in the three to six months like we had all feared. She sat learning towards me her face filled with concern in her husband’s green leather chair. “Sweetie” she says “If you want to be a writer you have to write” “I don’t want to write” I whine. “I have nothing to say.” She reaches over to grab hold of my hand. I see age spots on her paper thin hands.
“Just write and see what happens“.
Who am I to ignore the advice of a woman who can stare death in the face? So here I am writing. I must warn you that I am not feeling funny. This year has been pretty much the yuckiest of my 42 years, and I have had some doozies. This year and the last 2 years have been a struggle with instability with my husband’s unpredictable employment and erratic high priced low quality health insurance. Add in my, my son’s struggles with ADHA, my daughter and my struggles with her Asperger’s syndrome and that’s enough to beat the humor out of the most upbeat jovial antidepressant popping junky. But the last 4 months have done me in. Alzheimers is evaporating my stepfather’s memory; I have made the painful decision to break ties (for now) with my mentally ill sister who I never blog about, I lost my favorite aunt to cancer, then 3 months later living in fear for 3 weeks that I might be losing my mom the same way.
I have worn the happy mother mask. I have done my best to smile through the stress in front of my friends and family. I do throw the occasional (weekly) (daily) pity party in front of the TV eating cookies and ice cream alone. I am not proud. I am just trying to get by the best way I know how.
Funny things still happens, this morning at a townhouse on Cape Cod I mistakenly threw my son’s underwear up on a ceiling fan, hanging on a 12 foot ceiling. Yes, I got them down with an ironing board. But the point is that I don’t feel funny. I am sad and I think having my midlife crisis. I am going to try and write every day this week like I promised my mom.
I can't promise that anyone will enjoy readin it.
