Suspended Animation

I'm back.

Was quiet for awhile. Medicating. Thinking. Escaping. I start my new job tomorrow. Its at a very nice little hospital. And I already know people there. I miss county very much. But I will be making more money, and the all around details of the job are much better. Except the people I love working with will not be there. And your co-workers make the job. But I will make new friends.

The anniversary of my dad's death was on Sunday, the 2nd. This too has been part of the reason for medicating and escaping. Just don't feel like talking. Its hard to believe he's been gone for a whole year. My world is a very different place without him. Hell, the world as a whole.

I told my mom I would take her to the cemetary. Her car was in the shop. She had not been to the cemetary yet. Not once. Peggy called her that morning and said she would meet us there. I believe I started the day out drinking. I went to the store. Bought a red rose and a yellow rose. And some more Jager. This time a big bottle. Made sure I put the little powdery flower food in the water to keep them alive longer. Downed some Jager in the parking lot. We were supposed to leave at 5:00. I was running late. About 5:30 I walk over to Mom's house, and she is all flustered cause we haven't left yet. She called the cemetary and they said they closed the gates at 6 pm. I said "Mom, they aren't going to kick us out - its a cemetary." She kept resisting. And crying. And flustering. Took her clothes off. Put them back on. Off again. On again. I was buzzed and frustrated at this point. I said "You are going to the cemetary, and you are going to put those flowers you bought on the grave. Dad would do it for you." She still resisted. I said. "Well, I guess thats the difference between you and him. If you were dead and he were alive, he would do it for you. He would go and see you. He deserves that much." She stormed out of the room. I slid down her bedroom wall, held my face in my hands, and sobbed. She came back in few minutes, and said "Are you going or not?" I sat there, crying, and said "I'm sorry. I just miss Dad."

All the kids went except Tyler, and Royce came too. We drove down the winding street of the cemetary. Stopped by the trees that are my markers. Peggy was already there, and her kids were there too. Everyone got out but me. My mom walked to the grave. The first time she had been there since we buried him. I sat in the car. All I could do was cry. I couldn't get out. Royce sat by me for a little while, then got out. I glanced over and saw all the grandkids with my mom and sister at my dad's grave. I cried more. Peggy finally came over and asked me if I was ok and hugged me. And cried with me. Little Lauren wanted to know why I was sad. I said I couldn't get out yet. I sat there a little while longer. Finally, I picked up my flowers, and got out. I slowly walked over to Dad. Everyone kind of gave me my space. I stood on the grave. Looked down at his name. Looked at the empty spot that will someday have my mom's name on it, and a date. I looked up at Royce, pointed to the space and said "I don't want to do this again." I just looked at his name again. Dusted off the stone. And put my flowers in the vase with my mom's. The kids were walking with my mom and Peggy looking at the other flowers and graves. I just sat down. My mom and Peggy were ready to leave. I wasn't. I told Royce to take everyone home and come back and get me.

I sat there alone. And cried. And talked to him. And just sat. The sun started to go down. Then the sun was gone. I have never been in a cemetary after dark. It got darker and darker. And was probably the most peaceful place I have been in a long time. It wasn't scary at all, or uncomfortable, or anything. Nothing jumped out at me. Little night birds came out. And the crickets sang. My dad loved to hear crickets. It was actually very nice. I walked around a little. Then came back to Dad. And sat by him some more. After about an hour Royce pulled up and came and sat by me. He handed me a small bottle of tequila. "I thought you might need this." My man knows me well. Liquid anesthesia. Comfortably numb. We talked about Dad. Got to laughing a few times. Remembering good things. Laughing out loud. In the cemetary at night. Cried and laughed. I started to think about Anne. And her baby. That always happens when I drink. And drinking in the cemetary is definately going to do it. I still and will always feel like I should have done something more that day. I should have been a better nurse. I should have helped my friend. I still and will probably always feel guilty that I am here and she is not. I feel like I failed her. She was so beautiful. And so, on Thanksgiving I get to do this all over again. I don't cry as much with her anymore though.

I love a tequila buzz. Its such a full body numbness. We finally got up. I said goodbye to Dad. And drove to the club. Where I sat and had more alcohol. And listened to very loud music. And became comfortable. And numb.

And so I go on. Start another year without Dad. Start a new job. Go on with life. Aside from this last month, things are good. Royce and I are great. And my fitness plan is back on track. I am down 14 pounds. Started back on no carbs on Monday and lost 9 pounds this week. Not bad. I decided to start riding my bike again. I've been very fearful about that after what happened a few months ago, and so haven't gone out on it. But yesterday I did. It was hard, and hot, but I rode 5 miles. And felt good. So I decided to go again today. I think maybe I'm just not supposed to ride a bike. I wanted to ride further today. I actually rode to Hospice, where my dad died. And rode past it. I was booking. It was downhill. I had had an effedra, and I was feeling the need for speed. It was great. Until I tried to go up onto the sidewalk, the lip of the sidewalk was about 2 inches high, and my bike, at about 20 miles an hour didn't make the curb. I completely wiped out, was thrown completely off the bike into the asphalt of a parking lot. I went DOWN. Landed on my kneecap, and my elbow. And should have had a head injury but somehow avoided it. It was so bad I stopped traffic, and so bad that I wasn't even embarrased. I just laid there for a moment. A van with a Mexican family stopped. The dad ran over to me, helped me up, and picked up my bike. My bike is fucked. The front break is completely locked. I couldn't even move it. He made his wife get his little daughter to come over to translate. He spoke very little English, but between his muy pocito Ingles and my Spanglish and his daughter we communicated. I kept saying, "I'm OK." He was very concerned,said he didn't have a phone, but would give me a ride home. I told him I was fine and I would call my husband. He hesitated, but I finally convinced him I was ok. I thanked him in Spanish and English. I hid my bike, crossed the street, and found a little bar. I borrowed a cell phone, and called home.

My bike is fucked. But it doesn't matter. I'm not riding it anymore. At least not until Royce has one and can go with me.

Other than that, life is peachey.

Aside from the injury my outlook and feel about getting in shape is wonderful. I know I will do this. I am bringing sexy back. And I will be getting those new boobies for sure now with part of my retirement money from County. I'll be skinny with stripper boobies.

Then the career change.

I'm bringing sexy back.

And life goes on.