Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're not your brother, 2014. You're standing there all clean and shiny and full of promise, and for that I thank you. But take note: if you turn out to be anything like 2014, I will kick your ass relentlessly for 12 months straight and say goodbye with a finger. The middle, in case that wasn't clear.
2014 kicked my ass. It started with an abscessed tooth and the pain never evaporated, it just moved from one place to another, from on month to the next, always waiting for me to get back up just so it could drop another anvil on me.
That will not happen again. Not this time, not this year. I am slowly standing up again and I will not fall down again. So if you think you can waltz in here and do to me what 2014 did, you've got another thing coming. So just sit your ass down and let me take advantage of that clean slate you're offering. You can be The Year, 2015. And I'm going to make you my year, so enjoy the ride and excuse me while I spit goodbye to 2014.
Now excuse me while I talk to my friends.
I'm at home now, for a couple of hours. I'll be leaving soon to pick up my dog from my brother-in-law, but I wanted to drop a note for everyone to let you all know I am as okay as I can be at the moment.
It will take some time for me to heal physically, emotionally, and mentally. Last week was the longest of my life and, probably needless to say, I didn't get a lot of eat or sleep. Last night, however, I got twelve hours of straight, uninterrupted sleep in my own bed and that's a good start.
The purpose of this diary is to convey two very important things.
First, I have been absolutely overwhelmed by how much support you've all given me over the last few weeks- both financially and emotionally. There are simply no words to express how humbled and grateful I am. And while I simply can't start naming names, there are three kossacks that I have to thank publicly.
middleagehousewife, for calling me that first morning I arrived in Tacoma, when the shock of what was happening was first setting in. You calmed me and gave me the strength to face what was happening at a moment when I was so rattled and scared that I considered turning right back around and driving home. And you actually got me to laugh. It was "awfulsome." ;-)
Colorado is the Shiznit and VetGrl, you ladies are amazing and spent the entire week by my virtual side.
I don't have enough words of gratitude in the world for you three, so I'm calling you out publicly so that the entire community knows how amazing you are.
I also want to thank the countless others who have been there, and apologize that so many of your kosmails and emails have gone unanswered. When I have time I will thank each and every one of you personally.
I sincerely apologize that I can't do that now, or that I was unable to earlier. I know you all understand.
Second, I want you all to know that I AM taking care of myself, and taking that care very seriously. These are words I never thought I'd type or speak, let alone promise to live by, but: I am my number one priority from this moment on.
I learned a lot from my aunt Michelle in life, but I had to face some very serious and uncomfortable truths as I watched her die.
Michelle was so fierce and strong that no one ever considered that anything could take her down. Yet there we were, with Michelle at the young age of 48, watching her succumb.
She was an activist- she was an editor for the League of Women Voters, she did some serious campaigning/fundraising for the Democratic Party because she truly believed that that was the best vehicle to bring about change. She volunteered for the Boys and Girls Club, she was always writing checks for charities and candidates and causes. No matter what was going on in her own life, every time I reached out to her she would spend as much time as I needed to comfort me.
When our grandma died, my cousin (her daughter) mourned so deeply that Michelle spent three days in bed with her, holding her and drying her tears.
That's just what she did. And she wasn't what most people would call a "warm" person. But she was a rock. She was everyone's rock. She made everyone feel like the most important person in the world.
She never stopped, never slowed down.
Until one day, she did. And no one knew.
A week ago today I got a phone call and fifteen minutes later I was driving to Tacoma in the middle of the night. If I had known that her condition was that serious two, three, four months ago, I would have done the same damn thing. I would have driven all night just to throw her over my shoulder and drag her ass to the hospital.
But I didn't know because she didn't want anyone to know.
There is a point where being selfless crosses into something far less noble.
If she had cared for herself just one half of a percent of a fraction as much as she cared for everyone else, she'd still be here kicking ass, taking names, and inspiring everyone around her. I would still have an aunt. My cousins would still have a mom.
I wish I could have learned this lesson in any other way. But knowing me, it wouldn't have sunk in.
I have a lot of things that I need to do, number one being there for my cousins (I'm actively looking for a job in the SeaTac area so that I can be there full-time for them), but I'll not lose sight of the fact that if I don't take care of me, I'll eventually not be able to do a damn thing for anyone. So I will be taking care of myself and not in the self-destructive way.
Thank you all again. I love this family more than I can ever say.
One last one for Michelle.
And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Away from me
Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself
'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"
So who's going to watch you die?..
PS- here is my aunt's
memorial page. Feel free to pop in and marvel at how beautiful she was and how she inspired so many. :-)
1:00 PM PT: I've got to run, but I'll be back in a couple hours. I have to leave on a bit of a lighthearted note, though. I already mentioned in my last diary that Michelle told me that my "big, weird, goofy heart" was always safe with her and that she adored me, but she was also really fucking funny. So I have to quote her one last time.
When my dog ran away I was freaking out, and Michelle said:
"My boob just fell in my ashtray. But if I was there I would help you find your fucking dog. Autocorrect mostly right on that one."
It was the only thing that made me laugh that day, and we didn't let her live it down. :)