Oh, and by the way... I'm thinking this horrible empty "no 'good-bye' moment" thing is a large part that has made me such the anti-social creature that I've become over the past few years. Also, it might be part of the aging process.
But I do find it hard to get motivated to hang with folks. It seems sorta what's-the-point-y. Only the persistent ones seem to get me to hang with them. I need to work on this.
Scott's birthday was this past Tuesday. I meant to go visit him. This week was just too crazy. It took me 10 years to go the first time, so I'm sure he didn't expect me to show. Plus there's the whole "being dead" thing. Jhoneric said he go with me next time, though, so that's a bonus.
Anyway, this is mainly for those of you who think I've written you off or whatever. I'm just in a mood. It'll either go away or it won't. Nothing personal. If you keep contacting me, you'll have more success, though.
Again with the Happy Easter.
It's not even a blog, really... I just made it so I could get an account. It was a harrowing experience, and I don't want to relive it... just leave me alone!
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Speaking of death...
It's Easter, and the topic on everyone's mind is death... albeit mostly associating it with that whole conquering death thing that Easter is about. Or something.
So what a great opportunity to share something that I am unable to share with anyone in person, because it's sort of horribly emotional and nothing I want to talk about in person.
We have this song we're singing in this next concert which is about "mother". I find the last verse--which mainly focuses on how when it's her time to go, I hope she sees the love in my eyes that I saw in hers as I was growing up--to be particularly painful to make it through.
Here's the thing: there's no "good-bye" moment with someone in my mom's state. I mean, it's not just that whole, "I never got to say good-bye" or "The last thing I said to her was, 'You've got tuna salad on your blouse'" thing. There's NO "good-bye" moment. I'll never know when the "good-bye" moment was. I'll never know what the ACTUAL last thing I said to her was, in her mind.
Was it when I asked her about Uncle Bud at that Hardee's in Mexico, MO a few years ago? Was it something that I said to her that Christmas she came to Omaha? Was it me running in as a little boy, a deep gash in the back of my right hand, screaming, "I'm gonna die!" Was it some awful thing I said to her in my horrible teen years? Was it me asking her if dad was going to die?
Does she even remember me existing?
The big thing is, where is she? Where's that woman that was my mother? The one who said, "You just as well laugh as cry" and "Who's driving the truck?" and "Like a bicycle," (in response to someone saying they were too tired) and the one who'd sing "Marsie Doats" and about ten other old standards whenever the whim would strike her... that woman is where, exactly?
And who is staring at me when I'm at the nursing home? Who is giving me that angry look? Is it the woman who said, "If I ever get like gramdma, I want you to promise you'll kill me." Is she laying there, looking at me, thinking, "Well, you promised, didn't you?"
Happy Easter, everybody!
So what a great opportunity to share something that I am unable to share with anyone in person, because it's sort of horribly emotional and nothing I want to talk about in person.
We have this song we're singing in this next concert which is about "mother". I find the last verse--which mainly focuses on how when it's her time to go, I hope she sees the love in my eyes that I saw in hers as I was growing up--to be particularly painful to make it through.
Here's the thing: there's no "good-bye" moment with someone in my mom's state. I mean, it's not just that whole, "I never got to say good-bye" or "The last thing I said to her was, 'You've got tuna salad on your blouse'" thing. There's NO "good-bye" moment. I'll never know when the "good-bye" moment was. I'll never know what the ACTUAL last thing I said to her was, in her mind.
Was it when I asked her about Uncle Bud at that Hardee's in Mexico, MO a few years ago? Was it something that I said to her that Christmas she came to Omaha? Was it me running in as a little boy, a deep gash in the back of my right hand, screaming, "I'm gonna die!" Was it some awful thing I said to her in my horrible teen years? Was it me asking her if dad was going to die?
Does she even remember me existing?
The big thing is, where is she? Where's that woman that was my mother? The one who said, "You just as well laugh as cry" and "Who's driving the truck?" and "Like a bicycle," (in response to someone saying they were too tired) and the one who'd sing "Marsie Doats" and about ten other old standards whenever the whim would strike her... that woman is where, exactly?
And who is staring at me when I'm at the nursing home? Who is giving me that angry look? Is it the woman who said, "If I ever get like gramdma, I want you to promise you'll kill me." Is she laying there, looking at me, thinking, "Well, you promised, didn't you?"
Happy Easter, everybody!
Monday, March 14, 2005
Long Time No Non-Post
Sorry about that. I'll try to do better. But now I'm going to bed. Next week is Spring Break. I'll try to post more then. Maybe I'll learn about paragraph breaks, too.
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