As many of you know, I was having a rough week last week. Flat tires, bad luck, feeling just generally down… and I was looking forward to the weekend in an “at least it will be over then” kind of way. Heh… Little did I know what drama the weekend would send hurtling in my direction. I swear, I’m starting to feel a little like Karma’s chew toy. I’ve been sitting at my computer for a few hours trying to think of a good way to sum up all the thoughts storming through my brain about the events that have hit my life, and I totally need to write about it.
Part of me wonders if I should even post this, as it goes into a bit more detail about me and mine than I am generally comfortable posting here…
I think it all boils down to three conversations… two that were kinda (censored) up, and the other that was really, really (censored) up. Here they are (in snippets) for those of you that want the dish on the real messed stuff that’s bothering me, go ahead and skip to the third conversation…
Biscuit: Hey, Rob… I wanted to let you know that Charity’s in the Hospital again.
Me: I wish I could say I’m surprised. What happened?
B: Well, you know how she moved in with her boyfriend, right?
Me: The one with the self-esteem issues, yeah.
B: well, apparently she stopped taking her medication.
Me: Quelle Surprise. So, what did she do?
B: She threw a bucket at him.
Me: A bucket of what?
B: I don’t know… but he called me to ask what he should do.
Me: So you told him to learn to duck, right?
B: (not reacting to the joke) No. I told him I didn’t know. He called 911 and had the police take her to the hospital.
Next came when I made the obligatory phone call to Charity’s mom.
Charity’s mom: So, you heard.
Me: Yeah, Biscuit told me.
CM: How the heck did she know?
Me: Charity’s new man told her.
CM: Her, but not me until the hospital realized they had no place to put her.
Me: Uh… what?
CM: I only found out last night. The folks at the hospital say that there are no beds anywhere in south
Me: WHAT?
CM: There’s a mental health crisis going on here, Rob! They have no where to put her, and have been keeping her in the emergency room for the past three days!
Me: Lovely.
The last one had thankfully, nothing to do with Charity, but was the single most F’ed up phone call I believe I have ever gotten. I’ll let y’all decide for yourselves. It was on Mother’s day, when my Brother called me for what I thought was his usual “don’t forget to call mom” call. (I never forget to call, but Jay always calls anyway… such is the nature of my relationship with my brother)
Jay: Hi, Rob…
Me: Relax. I’m gonna call her. How’s your play going? Were the reviews good? How was…
J: Robbie, shut up for a second.
Me: what’s wrong?
J: Grandma Cerio passed away.
Me: Oh, man. When’s the funeral?
J: It was on
Me: WHAT? Why didn’t Dad call me to tell me? I would have come up, or at the least sent flowers!
J: Robbie, he didn’t know.
Me: WHAT!?!
J: Mom found out today, from Aunt Vita (Mom’s godmother) who saw the Obituary and asked her about it. Mom was pissed she hadn’t been told like you were just now. So she calls Dad, only to find out that he didn’t know. None of his brothers thought to call him and tell him.
Me: Jay, that is the single most (Censored) up thing I’ve ever heard.
J: Tell me about it.
Me: Those (censored, censored, censoredy-censored) pieces of (censored censored) monkey (censored)! Didn’t they think he’d want to (censored) know his mother died? What the (censored) is wrong with those (censored) people!?!
J: You’re preaching to the choir.
Me: I know…Jay, just promise me one thing…
J: What?
Me: No matter what happens between us in the future, if one of our parents dies, you’ll TELL ME!
J: Agreed. We’re not them, bro…we’re not them. Call Dad when you have a minute.
Me: Right.
I did call Dad later… not really knowing what to say. I’m not used to hearing that much pain in his voice, but I offered to be there if he needed to talk about it, and to call and curse out certain select members of his family any time he asks. What else could I say? What else can I do?
It was a truly F’ed up weekend.
3 comments:
Sympathies to the family. Learn to play the blues.
Tell your dad I'm sorry to hear about his mother and to smack his brothers upside the head (like he needs me to tell him that...)
Please extend my sincerest condolensces to Pops. And extend a fist to your uncles for me.
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