54 years ago today

my parents got married. It was not the best thing to do, in my opinion, for any of us. I lived in a home where everything was very disconnected. We never did anything as a family, except move across the country when the Air Force demanded it. Dad had his radio room, Momma had her ceramics, and I had my reading. We did eat together at about 4:30 or 5 pm when my dad got home, but we weren't really a family. We never took vacations (and as a result, neither do I, really. I just use my PTO for doctor's appointments and an occasional time off at home, going nowhere.) We lived in California and never went to Disneyland or the San Diego Zoo, for example, and I would have loved to.

Before you say, yeah, but you wouldn't be here. Sure I would. At eight years old I did the math and realised it was only eight months between my parents' wedding and my birth, and I wasn't born early. My parents had actually broken up and then she found out she was pregnant. It was 1966. Abortion was illegal. She was barely 19. To their credit, my mom's parents both said she could stay home and they would help take care of the baby, which was pretty enlightened for the time. Despite my withdrawn relationship with my parents, I loved my grandparents very much, and my grandfather in particular was a very good male role model for me. It was my dad's mom who wanted them to get married, and they did. I loved Nana very much (she was the 'fun' grandmother, after all; Ma showed her love in other ways), but she should have butted out.

Within a month, seeing as they'd both dropped out of school (he was in engineering at UK; she was in Good Samaritan's nursing school to become an RN), my dad lost his exception for the draft, and knowing that he would be drafted, he decided to enlist to make sure he could choose the branch to serve in, at least, and he chose the Air Force. Besides, he needed to get a job to support his new family..

That's how my dad wound up doing three tours during the Vietnam War. He was in Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia repairing aeroplanes. I always felt that he blamed us a bit. I know he tried to divorce my mom when I was two, while he was overseas, but she wouldn't do it long distance. My mom was very emotionally needy, and in her entire life [after they finally divorced when I was 15] she had to have a man in her life, and her personality changed with each one (she married a total of four times). She liked what he liked. The only time I really saw my mom's primary personality was between marriages.

I grew up as a hindrance, and I was mostly ignored, except I was expected to console my mother emotionally when she was upset and we were very enmeshed at the same time. I spent years trying to get their love, trying to be the 'good girl', getting great grades, and quietly trying not to do anything to upset them. I never really wanted for basic physical needs, and I was never physically abused, but emotionally I was neglected and I've spent the rest of my life trying to get over that.

As a result, as an adult, I broke off my relationship with my dad after he lied to me. I'd tried to rebuild our relationship after the divorce when I was out of the house, but we wound up estranged. That happened in 1993, after my grandmother died, and lasted until his death in 2018. We never reconciled.

In retrospect, living with my mother did more damage than my dad as I was growing up, because she was there. He was off serving overseas most of the first six years of my life and then left when I was 15. I modelled so much of my behaviour off of her. There was a lot of good, of course, I'm sure. But we were way too close in some ways. But it was always about her. I know she didn't mean it to be, and I've never figured out why she was so insecure. I do know she had social anxiety, and in retrospect, she had a lot of anxiety, and that's where I get it from, I'm sure. I never cut off ties with her, though, even though I should have. But as we got older I pulled away. I spoke with her about every three months and came home for birthdays and Christmas. I especially stayed away once she married my last stepfather. He was an okay guy, and I'm thankful he was there in her last years, as he was able to take care of her where I wasn't, but his sons were all addicts and caused all sorts of grief, to the point as my mom lie dying my grandmother's house where they were living was known as the 'drug house' and the cops were there time and time again. I refused to go there after a visit where my mom casually mentioned that I should be careful about loose needles as my youngest stepbrother had Hepatitis C and tended to leave them around. I'd just stayed in his room, and she hadn't mentioned it then. I never went back, but rather visited her whenever she was in the hospital.

After my parents died (she did in 2017, just shy of 70, and he did in 2018, when he was barely 70) I got a bit of closure but not really.

I'm not writing this to whine. I'm just trying to get a handle on my feelings. Mostly I felt unloved. Now I know people who have certainly had it much worse. But I don't even remember most of my childhood, and I know there was trauma, but I don't necessarily remember what happened. Most of my memories are from school or playing with friends. Frankly, there were a few good things about my childhood in the home I remember, but very few. I thought everyone's memory was like that for so long, but then I found out it wasn't. I think it's very telling that I've blocked out whole swaths of my childhood, but I don't really know why. It bothers me immensely.

Anyway, that's my story. Make of it what you will.

Earlier today

I shuttled my friends to their appointment, to the store, and got A to work, helped YKWIA a bit at home, and then came home, tired (I couldn't sleep last night after cooking till late at YKWIA's--I think I was finally able to get to sleep at about 3:30 am, so my insomnia is continuing somewhat).  It was a bright, sunny afternoon and had warmed up quite a bit, so I opened the bedroom window, got into some comfy clothes, and took a nap.  I'm thinking that was about 4 or so.  Now I'm awake and it's 7:40.  That might cause an issue later tonight, but at least I slept well for a bit.

My aunts and uncles are going to be able to come in for the visitation and funeral, which is Monday. The ones in Georgia are driving up tomorrow, and the ones in Texas, bless their hearts, were working overtime to find a flight in, and the closest they could get was Nashville, and then drive three hours. So they're travelling tomorrow, too.  I'm not sure about my cousins--one is on the West Coast for work and can't come, another is in meetings in Georgia, but I'm glad my mom's sister and brother and their spouses will be able to.

I need to pick my friend up from work tonight and tomorrow night, so I'll drive down on Monday morning.  It's about 35 miles away, so not too bad, and I'll be going against morning traffic.  I have a dress picked out (thanks to YKWIA, who informed me that the dress I wore to my grandmother's funeral would need more than Spanx to fit correctly).  It's a dress I bought for a vow renewal a few years ago, a deep purple covered in black lace--not exactly ideal, but it's nice, respectful (well, if I wear a camisole under that neckline, and I think my mom would approve.)  I do need to find some hose to go with it, which can be a challenge at my size (there's a reason I wear summer skirts and otherwise pants).  I may actually have to break down and go to the Evil Empire (aka Walmart), where I do not usually shop.  We'll see.

Tomorrow we are not playing the game. I could probably have used the distraction, but on the other hand, will have a little extra time to do some things.  I also desperately need to do laundry tomorrow.  I actually went out to Gabriel Brothers the other night looking for underwear (they usually have my size, unlike most other places in town that aren't a 'plus-sized women's' store, and much cheaper, because with YKWIA sick, I haven't done my laundry.  But I had no luck.  Fortunately I dug around and found some to get me through tomorrow.  So I'll go over there and do that and help him out if needed, or maybe we'll watch something on streaming video.

I also realised today that I missed renewing some books that were due the day she died, which I rectified, so I have some fines. I've paused my tracking, to-do items on Habitica so that by not doing them I will not affect the members of my party.  Funny how little things slip and then come to mind later in times like this.  I've e-mailed my family back and forth, and texted with my step-father, who sounds exhausted.  I've texted that I won't be to work to my bosses (well, I know I got through to one; the other may be an old number, so I'll leave a message at work as well).  I'll get some gas tomorrow for the trip.  I had thought about staying down in a hotel Monday night.  I'll keep it as an option, but for now, the plan is to just go down, go to the visitation and service, go the the graveside and know where she is to be buried, and maybe out to eat and spend some time with my family, then come back that evening.  I may take Tuesday off , though, as I have three days' bereavement leave, and I'm not sure it's really hit yet, and may not until the actual funeral.

I debated contacting my estranged father to let him know she had died.  We haven't spoken since 1993. but I know where he is on Facebook and could get a hold of him if I wanted to.  But I quickly discarded that idea.  He basically abandoned us in the 80s to pursue other women and a freer life without us, and I suspect he always felt rather trapped by my mother, who got pregnant before they broke up, then found out, and within a month his mom had pressured him to marry her.  My mom's parents, I will say, were very good, and even though it was the 60s, offered to let her live at home and not go the marriage route.  It's amazing the marriage lasted as long as it did, really.

My dad and I went our separate ways after my grandmother's funeral, when he lied to me and told me the insurance money was part of the estate and instead of asking me to help with expenses, demanded the money ($5,000, at a time when I was a student eating every other day, and he was an engineer who moved to Minnesota for an extra $30,000 a year and who had a policy in his name, as well, for twice that).  When I told him I wouldn't give it to him on the advice of my grandfather and YKWIA, he hung up on me, and that was that.

This is a man who moved us to another state, after they sold the house at a loss and my mom lost seniority at work, just so he could then tell her while we were in the motel that he was seeing someone else and wanted a divorce.  It was devastating, and it took her years to get over the financial and other repercussions.  He doesn't deserve to know.

Besides, while she had four husbands total (one of whom she was widowed by), her current husband and she were together longer than any of them (my dad was about 16 years; John has that surpassed).  John has been incredibly good to my mom, and has been a great companion, who took care of her in her illness day in and day out, and I can't thank him enough for being there.  I couldn't have done it, even without working.

When I was growing up, my mom and I were inseparable, even enmeshed to a great degree by the time I reached adulthood.  As an only child, there'd just been the two of us, especially while my father was overseas and then when he left.  As I got older, though, we drifted apart, and we were not as close as many moms and daughters that I know.  We each had our own lives, and checked in with each other every few weeks, and then I'd go visit about every three months or so, and at the holidays.  Momma tended to reach out to me more when she wasn't married, as she didn't have as much going on.  As years went on and I did a lot of examination, I realised a lot of my issues came from our relationship rather than just my issues with my dad.  And we talked about them a little, and we worked some of that out, but generally, we just lived our own lives and then came together every now and then. But we never cut ties like my dad and I did.

Despite that, I have found myself constantly thinking things over the last few days that bring my mom to mind.  'Oh, I should tell Momma that.  Wait, I can't.' or 'Momma would love this blouse I found.  But she'll never see it.' That sort of thing.  I guess that's to be expected, but it hurts.  The finality is starting to sink in.

Finally, let me just say that having watched the effects of end-stage liver disease, and even though she was never able to get a liver or even be placed on the list for one, she held out hope for that, and it would have changed her life around for the better.  Please consider being an organ donor.  There are thousands of people living, barely, who would benefit from that call that says, come in, we have a (insert organ here), that will have their lives transformed for the better.  You won't need them any more.  Why not donate life in your passing?

Okay, I'm going to sign off for now. I've been typing for an hour.  Funny, I usually listen to music to relax, even more than anything else, and I've had trouble doing that since she died, because certain lyrics cause me to cry, etc.  The only song I've sought out has been Rob Thomas' 'Now Comes the Night', a song I'd like played at my own funeral. I find it comforting.  Here it is:

My parents

got married 50 years ago today. The marriage made it about 15 years, but still, strange to think that's what they were doing so long ago. I'm still trying to wrap my head around turning 50 next April (yes, if you're good at math, you'll figure it out. I was about eight when I asked, as I wasn't premature). Anyway, I think it worked out better that they're apart, and really, they probably shouldn't have been together (they'd broken up by the time they found out I was on the way, and got back together mainly to appease my paternal grandmother. My maternal grandparents were actually really cool for the 1960s and told my mom she could stay with them, have the baby, and not get married to my dad.

This story is so sad--I hope they find the driver who took three lives and injured another

Suspect named in hit-and-run crash that killed family

Police on Monday identified a suspect being sought in the Brooklyn hit-and-run deaths of a man, his pregnant wife and the baby she carried.

NYPD spokesman Paul Browne said police are looking for Julio Acevedo, 44, who he said had a DWI arrest last month. Acevedo was going at least 60 mph when the car slammed into the cab [emphasis is mine] carrying the couple to a hospital, police said. The baby, delivered after parents Nachman and Raizy Glauber were killed in the crash, died Monday, a spokesman for the religious community said. Isaac Abraham, spokesman for the family's Orthodox Jewish community, said the boy will be named and circumcised following religious traditions. He had initially been listed in serious condition hours after Saturday's accident, Abraham said. Neighbors and friends said the boy weighed only about 4 pounds.

YKWIA told me about the parents' deaths yesterday, and of the miracle that the child was born alive. I was so sad to hear this morning that the little boy died. My heart goes out to the family and to their community. I so hope the authorities find and prosecute the driver of the vehicle that killed them.