What Was Waiting for Me When I Came Home

I mean, aside from child and pets and house and my own bed: Three weeks worth of books sent, which I will catch up with and post during the week. As Athena said: “It’s like Christmas, but for work.” Yes, well.

In other news, I am home. And I get to be home for, like, four whole days. And then I leave again. I am determined to enjoy these next four days fully.

15 Comments on “What Was Waiting for Me When I Came Home”

  1. knowwherehome – My mother passed away recently, and I have found little information on the long term grieving process. This blog is meant to help me, and hopefully others through this long, painful, journey. To tell you a bit about myself, I was extremely close to my mother. She was a strong Hispanic woman, who took the word “no” from nobody. She was funny, kind, and extremely blunt. “That out fit doesn’t look good on you. You’re crying over THAT guy? And you wonder why you get fat”—were just some of her famous words. Nothing was ever sugar coated, but that’s what I loved about her, what she said was real, but the words that I will take to my grave with a heavy heart are — “You know why I’ve been so hard on you? Because I know you could do anything you set your mind to, and not many of us can.” True or not, my mother understood me, she motivated me, and made me realize anything was possible, including graduate school. My mother believed in my writing ability and never made me feel less for not being married or not having a child—something every Hispanic female is conditioned to believe they should have by the age of thirty-five. My mother and I were a team, even when we were at odds with each other. It’s been over a year-and-a-half and the pain over her loss is at times excruciating. I still can’t believe it’s real. Her passing was sudden and unanticipated. Diabetes. It’s a motherfucker. She was only two months into dialysis when she passed, and I was supposed to be her kidney donor. She just about cleared all her physical examinations, which would have made the donation process possible, but we were too late, and that is a devastation that will haunt me for a lifetime. My hope is that this blog will somehow help me find reasons to live my life to its fullest, either through reflections of heartbreak or break through realizations of how to live happily even though she is no longer here. It’s not until a loving parent is gone, that you realize the impact they have made on your life. My mother would want me to live my life and fight for my goals and dreams, but currently this lackluster road has been filled with apathy and heartache. I simply don’t care about anything very much, even though I should. Second year grief is difficult, but I’m hoping somehow this blog will help me pull through. This is going to get deep and personal, but it’s the only way to truly share this dark passage we must all endure.

    Sleeping in your own bed is heaven.

  2. I suddenly feel the need to send a SASE and a copy of Moby Dick, just to make your life more random.

    Please sign it “To John, Best Wishes, Herman Melville”.

  3. What percentage of those will you read? When I was younger and had fewer things going on in my life I was a voracious reader. These days I’m lucky if I can get through one book a month. But I do play and sing a whole lot of music, so it’s not all drudgery.

  4. WOO HOO! BANJO! Mind you, getting the right bend on the finger picks can be a pain in the tips… and deciding between plastic and metal (I prefer metal). LOL

    Also, what will you do with all those envelopes? I mean seriously. Save them for winter in case the power goes out and you need heat/fire? ;-)

    P.s., Your bridge appears to be a little out of whack, unless you have a really whacked out banjo! And I can buy that for a dollar!

  5. Heh. It’s really not intentional; they have to go somewhere and Krissy made the display a couple of years ago. If I take a picture in my office they are likely to show up.

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