mnvnjnsn's Diary

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Not again

There was this one time, about three months after my father had died, when Mom was getting ready to take me to my french horn lesson. I really didn't want to go. I don't remember why-- maybe it was because I hadn't practiced, or maybe I was rebelling. Probably, I was just tired and I didn't want to go to my instructor's house, where she lived with her grandmother, where it smelled like plastic couches and urine and sterilized death.

Anyway, I told Mom I wasn't going and she, of course, was insisting I certainly was. I began a tantrum, which seems really lame now, but it was vitally important to me at the time that I blow off my horn lesson and I was willing to do whatever it took to not to go.

I remember standing in the doorway of the bathroom, just before I locked myself in, I looked right at her and said "I wish you had died instead of Dad!"

Mom just looked at me and said "I know."

I had read in some book someone had given my mom in the wake of my Dad's death that children who lose a parent often say that. It never would have occurred to me to say that to her had I not read that apparently I was supposed to say that. I never even considered what that statement meant until years later, when I tried to imagine what my life would have been like if Dad was still around, and realized I wouldn't have been able to get away with any of the shit I pulled in high school and college. I believe he told Mom that, because of my diabetes, I would be living at home with them until I could be passed safely to a husband.

My mother gets points for letting that bounce off her like she did. I think she knew I didn't mean it. She was very perceptive until That Woman dulled her mind and screetched her into selective deafness.

When I think of that incident, I see how unable I was to deal with my grief, and so I threw tantrums about stupid shit and started taking a lot of naps. I don't think I'm any better at dealing with grief now, which is why, when I read an email from Mom that says the following:

I know that J can throw an embolism from her neck to her heart at any time or that her blood pressure can cause a stroke at any time but we are keeping up hope that these things won't happen and that she can heal and enjoy life for a few more years, at least.

I cope by buying a lot of music online and taking a lot, a lot of Vicodin. And not going to my metaphorical horn lessons.

8:03 p.m. - 2007-04-25


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