This has to get better
Oct. 7th, 2003 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sereneorangeI swear I am not a whiney baby about work. I do not like the job I have and would give anything to find a better job. I have been actively looking for a new one. I understand that Bush is a giant twat and our economy is shit. Believe me, I am grateful for my MCJob at the bank, but I want to drink at work. I keep thinking to myself, "I could get away with having a cape cod at work. I could buy a bottle of cranberry juice and slip in some Grey Goose. Noone would be the wiser." But that is wrong of course. When I am giddy and pleasant to everyone they are gonna march my ass right to the bathroom and make me pee in a cup. For the past week, each call has taken every bit of strength I have to not cry or cuss.
Today was Linda's birthday. She would have been 51. There are so many things to miss about her, but I mostly cry when I think about Connor's loss. I had summers with her. I am not talking about bitty little 2-3 week stays with her. I mean whole, full, long, loving, safe summers. We would fly out as soon as school ended and come right back before school. We could sleep in, get up early, stay up late, or nap all day. Linda was fairly poor, but there were delicious meals, trips to water parks, trips to the zoo, countless trips to the lake and movies. I learned to play scrabble, spades, backgammon, dice, pick blackberries, drink coffee (at a very young age), and be happy. There was very little yelling, I didn't get beat. Linda's house was eden. I hope that Connor never feels he has to escape to feel safe and loved, but I hate that he doesn't get what I had as a child. He doesn't get to be around someone that was loving and trusting and constantly optimistic. I am not Linda. I will never have as many friends as she had and cannot see the world as beneign as she did. She was amazing to watch with other people.
The cancer took away her happiness. She hurt, she had brain damage from the tumor, she was afraid, and her beauty faded. She lost her strength and her independance. She never told us this. If you asked her how she was, her answer was always. "Spoiled rotten and loving every minute of it." It became infuriating to hear. I wanted to scream at her, "Goddamn it, Linda, you are not. You hurt. You married a son of a bitch after 15 years of not marrying that wonderful man, Bob. Fucking tell me so I can listen and say comforting things. Tell me so I can be angry with you." But that would never happen. She was never going to share that with me. When she did it was an accident- a by product of the tumor induced brain damage, and she would deney it later ( or really forget-I'll never know) It probably would have been more painful to admit that to me than to keep it to herself. I do not want to be that way. I want to let people in. People stopped coming by as much. She always had a ton of friends, but when she wasn't sexy, or able to drive to deliver their pot, a lot of people needed her less. That was hard to watch. I cannot fathom how it must have felt to live it.
I was so angry with her for not fighting more. I understand toward the end; there was not a lot that could have been done. At the begining though. . . if she had doen the chemo after the radiation, if she had fought harder, we would still have her. Maybe. I know it is a quality of life issue. I know it was her decision to make. But I wanna scream and hollar, run and cry, hit and crumple, sleep and detatch. There are real fuckers out there. Horrible heinous people. Out there. They are a drain on society. Yet they remain, while beautiful, giving, guiless, Linda is gone. I sit around thinking of how I can remember all my times with her. Each little minute. Every wise thing she said. I missed so much. I miss her so much. Tomorrow will be better.
Today was Linda's birthday. She would have been 51. There are so many things to miss about her, but I mostly cry when I think about Connor's loss. I had summers with her. I am not talking about bitty little 2-3 week stays with her. I mean whole, full, long, loving, safe summers. We would fly out as soon as school ended and come right back before school. We could sleep in, get up early, stay up late, or nap all day. Linda was fairly poor, but there were delicious meals, trips to water parks, trips to the zoo, countless trips to the lake and movies. I learned to play scrabble, spades, backgammon, dice, pick blackberries, drink coffee (at a very young age), and be happy. There was very little yelling, I didn't get beat. Linda's house was eden. I hope that Connor never feels he has to escape to feel safe and loved, but I hate that he doesn't get what I had as a child. He doesn't get to be around someone that was loving and trusting and constantly optimistic. I am not Linda. I will never have as many friends as she had and cannot see the world as beneign as she did. She was amazing to watch with other people.
The cancer took away her happiness. She hurt, she had brain damage from the tumor, she was afraid, and her beauty faded. She lost her strength and her independance. She never told us this. If you asked her how she was, her answer was always. "Spoiled rotten and loving every minute of it." It became infuriating to hear. I wanted to scream at her, "Goddamn it, Linda, you are not. You hurt. You married a son of a bitch after 15 years of not marrying that wonderful man, Bob. Fucking tell me so I can listen and say comforting things. Tell me so I can be angry with you." But that would never happen. She was never going to share that with me. When she did it was an accident- a by product of the tumor induced brain damage, and she would deney it later ( or really forget-I'll never know) It probably would have been more painful to admit that to me than to keep it to herself. I do not want to be that way. I want to let people in. People stopped coming by as much. She always had a ton of friends, but when she wasn't sexy, or able to drive to deliver their pot, a lot of people needed her less. That was hard to watch. I cannot fathom how it must have felt to live it.
I was so angry with her for not fighting more. I understand toward the end; there was not a lot that could have been done. At the begining though. . . if she had doen the chemo after the radiation, if she had fought harder, we would still have her. Maybe. I know it is a quality of life issue. I know it was her decision to make. But I wanna scream and hollar, run and cry, hit and crumple, sleep and detatch. There are real fuckers out there. Horrible heinous people. Out there. They are a drain on society. Yet they remain, while beautiful, giving, guiless, Linda is gone. I sit around thinking of how I can remember all my times with her. Each little minute. Every wise thing she said. I missed so much. I miss her so much. Tomorrow will be better.
