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Monday, January 21, 2008

A Family Visit

1/20/08: Back from a weekend in LA to visit family. The drive down was nice, my daughter drove and we listened to a Lake Wobegon book, Pontoon. The time flew, and I am so glad that we are comfortable together, because I don’t have that luxury with my mother. It was also fun that we laughed in the same places. We were driving down to visit my mother, just a quick girl’s trip, and taking down 2 years of Christmas presents for her and my sister that had been accumulating in a large Panera bread bag in my office. The bulk of the presents were for my sister’s dog Yoda who is a wonderfully scraggly little white dog who looks like….Yoda! But cuter. The visit began on a good note, arriving in time for my Friday evening shows on TV, and continued on Saturday with a wonderful lunch at The Elephant Bar with my sister. Then back to the house for presents and games of
Bananagrams
which is very similar to speed scrabble with a cousin who had also driven in to town to visit. My sister left for home and later that evening we met my brother and his extended family for his birthday dinner at Buca di Beppo and my visit home began the inevitable downhill slide. I have a series of pictures taken of my children and their three cousins from down south; the five of them had bonded over summer visits to Lake Arrowhead each year while they were growing up and seemed to always settle in quickly to enjoy each other’s company after spending the year 400 miles apart. But of course Joey wasn’t there to complete the five, and it was sad. Then at dinner watching the young men bolt their pizza and cheese bread and pasta I couldn’t help but think “like Joey would be doing if he were here” and the sadness became a consuming thorn in my breath. I had used my balance spray in an attempt to control my stress level at dinner, knowing the first visit since Joey’s memorial could be strange, and was able to keep a calm demeanor plastered across my face. But as the evening wore on I just wanted to be home and alone and escape in my book. A short conversation with my brother’s GF after dinner finished with her saying that ‘we all have something we are trying to deal with’ as she looked away, avoiding my gaze. And it just left me cold. And I know she is right, that I am not special in my grief except in my own eyes, and that we all have our own stories. But at that particular moment, having suffered through the dinner feeling disconnected and so much an outsider it was the last thing I wanted to hear. Sunday morning we packed up, stopped by one of the cousin’s for a wonderful visit with her two precocious children whom we hadn’t seen in years, and on that high note we left for the drive home. As we drove our way north listening to more of the audio book, I continued to worry that parting comment from Saturday night like a dog chewing the marrow out of bone, digging deep and trying to be honest with myself about the depth of my pity pool. I had thought myself on the way out of that cloying water, maybe not ready to dry off yet but at least out of the pool and dripping off the last drops of ‘poor me.’ But no, instead I find myself firmly entrenched, the mud of pity grasping at my ankles as I stand bewildered at the edge of the pool unable to step out onto the dry golden sands that lead to sanity. What the F***! So while I feel I owe her an apology, she didn’t know how much she hurt me, and now I wonder what prompted her to say that to me. Now that I am home, I find myself wondering what she is going through that she voiced her...disapproval? Maybe she just loves my brother and doesn’t understand why I need to distance myself from him. But in any case it has me questioning where I am in the grieving process, and looking around my messy office I know I truly am getting tired of my stasis and tired of my moping. I’ve been reading a series of Celtic fantasies, and I have one book left in the set of 12. I am thinking that when I finish reading it, when that last page has been turned, I will be able to pull myself free of the mud and start walking up the beach. It has been way too long since I’ve felt the sand sifting between my toes.

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