winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When it rains, it pours. Two cups of Apple Cinnamon tea down and, it's official, this dreary, rainy day has begun. Man, I wish I were back in bed. So things are piling up, here. I'm trying to sort through everything and I'm trying even harder to not let them overwhelm me but, I'm telling you, it sure is hard. First let me say that the absense of recent entries have a dual purposes: first, I've simply not had the time. All my free time at home has been spent re-doing the house. I've been in one construction project or another and I would say that, at this point, I'm probably 80% of the way to my goal. What that also means is that I still have a few more tiring nights ahead of me. Then, while at work- which is where I post most of my entries (like right now)- I've been so overrun that my days are running into nights at the office. On the other hand, the new Personnel Supervisor is doing great. She's picking up on things quickly and gets a lot done. It would help if we had the time to properly train her, then we might be able to use her for a few more things. But until then, I'm not complaining. Well, the other reason why I've not posted lately is that I'm really not sure what to say. There are so many things that I want to say, things that I want to express but would, perhaps, be taken the wrong way or inspire certain person(s) to feel a way I don't intend for them to feel. Having said that, I'll say this: I don't know how to feel about Richie. I've never seen him look this bad. My Nana calls every night and I can give her a healthy four minutes before she is crying and wanting me to tell her what I think is going to happen. First of all, I don't know. I haven't the slightest idea. The list of things the doctors CAN'T do is longer than the list of things they can do. He's in pain and nothing seems to be working. But, at the same time, he's been here before. The doctors run around in circles and finally one of them comes up with something that they can take out or put in to help prolong his life. I think that I'm in this suspended state, waiting for a doctor to pull something out of their hats. Only thing is, they are running out of things to take out of him and the things that they have put in him are now making him sick. So what do you do? What do I say to Nana? Well, I tell you what I say. I say, "Nana, you have to stop crying and you have to make sure that you don't cry in front of Sonya because she needs our support. If she sees any of us crying or breaking down, she'll spend her time trying to comfort us and, right now, she needs to be able to support Richie." Then I get off the phone and feel like a heal for asking my Nana to swallow her emotions. That's her granddaughter and the man she's known has her grandson-in-law for ten years now. It's not fair for me to demand that from her. As there's not a good way to deal with it, I chose the best bad way. Two days ago a co-worker and friend of mine found his seventeen-year-old daughter dead of undetermined causes after she'd gone to her room earlier that evening to take a nap. They have not declared, yet, but feel that she more than likely suffered from a brain aneurysm. Darryl, the father, is a practicle joker- always with something funny to say or do. I've seen what the sudden loss of a child can do to a person and I hate that he will be...IS... experiencing this. Justin, again, wants to move to RayRayLand. Dad has bought yet another source of entertainment to draw them in whilst I am grounding him left and right. Who wouldn't want to move to RayRayLand. Hell, I'd be lying if I said the I didn't (sometimes) want to return to that place that offers a disinterest in taking responsibility for one's actions and is all about indulgence. Woohoo. A round of cotton candy for everyone. With that kind of environment always around the corner why would he care how much I want him to eat meat loaf or chicken casseroles? But, by god, he's not going. He's not. He's going to be a responsible adult who knows how to think and create and make sound choices. If it kills both of us. That being said, I miss him. We are in the house together and yet I miss him. Things are so different with us now. And I knew that this day would come where I stand on the sidelines scrutinizing the friends that he wants to be with twenty-four hours a day. I guess I just didn't know how I was going to feel about it. I'm so busy all the time, he's off with his friends, we have so little time together. I told him the other day that I missed him and he looked at me funny. On the other hand, while talking to my Jordan on the phone last night we did out usual "I love you this much thing." It's almost a rountine. "Do you know how much I love you," I ask? "How much," is always her reply. "Tons and tons," I tell her "Do you know how much I love you," she'll ask in return. "No, how much do you miss me," I ask. There's a long pause while she thinks of her answer. "I love you one hundred... and...fourteen." To which I always say, "My, that is a lot of love." I know. I know. It's too sweet to digest but it's my daughter. It's my baby. I don't get to tuck her in at night. I don't get to wash her hair except for two weekends a month. I miss holding her. I miss her smell- and until you have a child you'll never know how powerful a child's smell can be to a mother. I miss my daughter and I never know how to express to her that she leaves a void in my life when she's not there. So, last night, I switched it around. When it was time for us to end our conversation I asked, "Do you know how much I miss you?" "No," she said, "how much do you miss me?" "I miss you five-hundred- and twenty-four." There was a long pause. Then she said, "That's a lot. I miss you that much, too, Mommy." I hung up the phone, hugged Justin (whether he wanted it or not) and spent the rest of the evening working on the house until, at around 3:00 a.m., I gave up and fell into bed, exhausted. You know, sometimes the feeling of "want" is so overwhelming that I can't pick it apart to tell you what it is that I am really "wanting." But I guess this is a start. 9:48 a.m. - 2004-03-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||