Shaken Not Stirred

Sometimes I look at things like Facebook and this blog as my dairy. I guess it is how I vent or talk things through. I forget that other people are going to read it and later often realize that some things should remain private. This is one of those moments. Sometimes you need to talk things out though and where else can I get everyone I know into the same room? This is a serious note about my Thursday evening. I wouldn’t post this at all but I am learning that we all go through “stuff” and sometimes it helps to hear it from others. It kind of lets us know that we are not alone and no one is immune to the cloudy days in a beautiful life:

I have been waiting for “the call” for five years. No, I didn’t get it yet. I am talking about that call to let me know that mom has passed. I don’t know how many times that I have gotten a call at an odd time and have thought that maybe that was going to be the one. In my mind, I am somewhat prepared for it but let’s face it, it’s not something you can’t really plan out so that it will go well. I got a call Thursday afternoon that shook me. It wasn’t one I had thought about at all and it completely took me off guard.

I was on my way to an event Thursday night and just before I got there my dad called and said that he didn’t want to wait until the last minute and that next week we were going to meet at the funeral home to plan mom’s funeral.  Ouch…I hadn’t thought about that call. It really took the wind out of my sails. I wasn’t devastated or anything like that; I was just…deflated. I felt like the car seat and just sunk a couple of inches. Something inside of me had broken. I could feel it. I guess I had a sort of unrealistic optimism that somehow mom would be here forever or maybe just if I didn’t think about it that maybe it wouldn’t happen…yet. So much for that; here it was and I had to face it and plan for it. I had to accept the unthinkable just like my parents did with their parents.

I went on to the event, not overly sad, just shaken and quiet. I worried that I might get all teary eyed but that wasn’t the case. It was more of just a sinking feeling than anything else. I got there only to find that I was about to be stuck with this guy that I have to work with every now and then, and who, for lack of better words, has never been anything but a mean, bossy jerk to me since the day I met him. I don’t really know why he acts like this. Part of it is just his nature but he just really doesn’t like being around me.

The event was nice and part of it talked about a rare disease that attacks the brain and usually starts in childhood. They had a lighting of the candles ceremony and showed a video with pictures of the children that had passed. The guy (I think from this point I will just call him “Jerk”) turned to me and said, “I hope this makes you cry; I’d like to see that.” He wasn’t being funny; he meant it. I was in no state to carry on a conversation with him and I really didn’t want him to know how close he was to getting to me so I just ignored him (which I am pretty good at) and tried not to pay too much attention to the memorial.

It was sad and everyone was crying as there were several parents there in the room with their children who currently have the disease. I held it together still remembering my conversation that I had just had over the phone with my dad and trying to not hit Jerk at my table. After the event, everyone stood around and talked for a while and I was there pretty late. Jerk came over to me and asked if it had made me sad enough to cry. I told him that it was sad but that I had held it together. Let me stop here to explain that he knows all about my mom and my recent articles on Alzheimer’s, etc. He looked at me and said, “I think it is sad when it is children. This disease reminds me of Alzheimer’s. But you know, when it is old people, I don’t care about them. I mean, if an old person is dying from Alzheimer’s who cares? I know it don’t; they are old and dying, who cares?”

Sitting here now, I can’t believe that I didn’t put him through a wall or burst into tears. I am a lover not a fighter but push too many buttons and eventually you are going to hit the one marked “bite your head off” or the "somebody's about to get hit". I didn’t do either. I didn’t do anything. I felt an emotion that I don’t even have a name for.  I didn’t feel anything. I just went cold and empty. I remember the old story from the Bible where Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt. It was kind of like that. I just froze on the inside and didn’t feel a single thing. A lady walked up at that time and started talking to Jerk and he left for the night. I think that might have been divine intervention. Without her, I might be sitting in jail or the ER right now and that really wouldn’t have helped a thing.

I got home late that night; I think I was silent the entire way home. I’ll bet I sat in the car for an hour before going into the house, just thinking.  I sat up for a while, ate a little something and watched some mindless TV to unwind or maybe to just not think. Before I knew it, it was 6am and I needed to go to bed. I woke up at noon, and rebooted myself by having a light breakfast, a shave and then lunch, all back to back.  It was a day “off” for printing up materials and running errands. I hopped in the car and started my day not believing that I had stayed up so late and had wasted so much of the day.

Have you ever had a dog or a cat that got injured? If so, you know that sometimes they retreat to themselves. They sort of isolate themselves from everyone; I guess it is some kind of survival instinct. That is what I felt like all day.  I just felt injured and so with the isolation and protection of my car,  I carried out the day’s chores. I wasn’t overly sad about the funeral plans or anything but I just couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face all day. There was no sobbing or breaking down, just slow water works that I couldn’t or control. I was a leaky faucet.  I would dry my eyes, run into Kroger, dry my eyes run into the alterations place, etc. I went to the gym and saw no one that I knew and went through the motions of a  Zombie workout. My dad and I met to go visit mom and then to eat, as we do every night and I did it all while feeling my gear shift was stuck in neutral.

As the day ended, I actually felt a bit better. I don’t know what it was. I had written a hundred stories in my head during the day but they had been washed away by the river of tears and I doubt I’ll remember any of them…and that is ok with me. Something inside of me was different though and I knew it. I sat there last night and the only thing I could think of was a scar. I had a big new scar inside. I have many inside and out but the thing about scars is that they tend to be a little tougher than all the rest of the skin. I guess when the body focuses all its attention on healing one thing, that teamwork really pays off in a job well done. Scars are stronger but they are also more sensitive to the sun. Shine the light of day on them and they will turn red and inflame easily. I guess that holds true for both physical and emotional scars.

Thursday was not a good day for me. It was too much. I think though, in retrospect, that it took that one/two punch to make me face the reality of what is coming soon with my mom. It also put me in a new place in my mindset about this Jerk. I used to dread it when I knew I was going to have to be around him and it was all I could do to tolerate his belittling attitude. Now, I don’t care about him. I am not sure it is a good human trait and I didn’t really know that I could ever have it, but I just don’t care about him at all. He isn’t going to get under my skin or tick me off because there is nothing about him that deserves any part of my attention. There is a phrase that I jokingly use a lot “You are dead to me” but now, for the first time, I really understand it. There is no longer anything about him that matters to me. I do feel that I still need to tell him how cruel his comments were and I might. My feeling is though that he already knows it. All of this shook me but it didn’t stir up the volcano of emotions that I thought it would have. I didn’t fall into a sad sobbing depression over having to plan mom’s funeral; I was just stunned and deflated. Hope was gone. Jerk didn’t send me into redneck rage or cause me to burst into tears. He stirred nothing inside of me at all. I guess I was shaken but not stirred….not a reaction I would have ever anticipated.