Ramblings of a Mom
Ad 2:
2005-11-02 23:28:47 (UTC)

Friends, or not...

Ya know, you learn a lot about your friends, or lack
thereof, when a family member passes away (such as your
father). My Dad died, and I had ONE, yes, you guessed it,
ONE friend show up to the service. Oh, unless you count my
ex-husband and his sister who told everyone, I'm just here
for him. I know I don't have a lot of friends to begin
with, or rather, not a lot that I am currently close to,
but there are several of them that I converse with on a
fairly regular basis and two of them I meet for lunch once
a month. One of them showed up, (or this pity party would
have been realllllly big!) but the other said that she
needed to board up their mobile home for the hurricane
(Hurricane Rita), and couldn't make it. Um, I have a
mobile home, and we didn't board up the house or take any
other precautions of the sort, and suffered no damage, oh
yeah, because we kind of figured that we would cut our
losses if, and only if, the hurricane actually came this
direction or made it this far. AND, it turned, it didn't
affect this area at all!
Has she reached out to me since then? Um, nope. We met
for one of the girl's birthdays at the end of September for
lunch, the bday girl drove from Pflugerville to downtown
Austin to pick up said girl, sat in the car waiting on her
for 15 minutes with 2 kids in the car, and there was no
call nor any show. She later made contact, saying
something about her husband being ill, didn't get to a
phone, whatever. I haven't picked up the phone to call
anyone, because, to be frank, I don't like reaching out to
anyone at this point.
I didn't begin to break down over my Dad until right at a
month after his death, and then everything has affected
me. It especially hit home when I was just beginning to
grieve over all that has happened (great aunt, father-in-
law, uncle, Dad), when my husband informs me that he is
afraid that I am unhappy and that we need to schedule a
regular babysitter (like my Mom) to get us out once a week
because that is what it will take to salvage our
relationship. Um, what? Okay, so I majorly tail spin at
this time. Then a week or so later, I'm stable again.
One of my friends (my only one, I guess), got concerned
when I hadn't returned any emails from her nor had she
heard from me since her birthday, so she called me. That
was nice, it was nice to hear that someone realized that I
was 'missing' and needed to talk to someone.
Then along comes today. Our kitten was in a 'car
accident'. Here's the problem. It was with my car. He
had crawled up into the engine area or somewhere, and
didn't come out after I repeatedly called him and put his
food out. My youngest son and I left to go to my nail
appointment, was on a highway, and I heard a thump. Gut
feelings made me turn around and go back. I went back, and
I found Fred. I scooped him up, went to the grassy side of
the road (the passenger side of my car), laid him down in
the grass, and cried my eyes out. I was talking to my Mom
when I found him. She of course came over immediately,
called my husband and told him that I killed Fred, and he
thought it had happened at home, so he was ready to leave
work, come home, take care of things, and have everything
cleared out before I returned from my nail appointment.
But this didn't happen at home, but 2 1/2 miles away from
home. A sherriff's deputy stops and tends to me, Fred, and
getting me back on the road to home.
I go home, hysterical. I didn't even cry this hard over my
Dad. But that is probably because I didn't allow myself to
cry this hard over anyone that I have lost lately. I'm too
scared to lose control. My Mom gets here, and freaks over
my state of mind. She starts calling counselors, doctors,
Hospices, etc. She wants me in counseling (and my older
son too), and wants me on meds. Maybe that is what I need,
I don't really know anymore.
I speak with a Hospice counselor on the phone. She tells
me that I have to realize that I didn't kill Fred. It was
an accident. I didn't put him up in the car, he did. I
called for him and looked for him, he just didn't come
out. It's an accident. But why does the death of this
little cat trigger so much trauma for me? It doesn't make
I guess, life doesn't make sense.