Sunday, December 29, 2002

F*&^$! I thought I should write about something happier, but I can't. Christmas Eve with the family went ok, but without Mom there, I just wanted to leave. I cried the whole drive home. Why can't this get easier? I honestly don't think it ever will. I think I will cry every day for the rest of my life. The strangest things trigger the saddest thoughts. You know it's bad when a Nine Inch Nails song can make you sob. Here's how that went...

F* you like an Animal came on the radio... the line "hey Pig, Piggy, Pig, Pig Pig" made me think of how my Brother gives everyone nicknames, how he used to call his ex-girlfriend Piggy and sing that song to her. Then I think about how he now calls his wife Skippy. It triggers the memory from that first week when Mom was in the hospital, when she was coherent... Eddie told her that Skippy said Hi, then he said it funny, "skippeeeeee", and Mom smiled. Then I begin to think more about while Mom was in the hospital, and those thoughts are the absolute worst, the most heart wrenching. I think about how she seemed, at that time, to be getting better, how she really shouldn't have died, how they let her bleed until it caused her heart to fail. I think about what I saw. No one should ever see what I saw. I don't want to think about how bloated she was and all the tubes and blood. I want to forget the hospital. I want to take a little pill and forget. I want to go back in time and see her go from nodding and blinking to talking and walking. But it doesn't happen that way. Reality hits and I can heardly bear it. All from a NIN song that should be inspiring lust instead of great sadness.

So as much as I want to write about the gigantic teddy bear Chuck got me for Christmas or the very cool red velvet pillow Jenny made for me, I need to write about the pain before it consumes me.

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