I really wanted to name this post FUCK YOU 2013. Is WTF more polite? Whatever…
So I am not ashamed to admit it that I’ve been self-medicating for the past few days with copious amounts of food and drink. 2013 is only a few days old and it’s already kicking my butt.
My Grandmother passed away on January 1. (More on this later…) Drew’s dad will most likely die in the next few weeks/months. Our roof leaks, so pretty much every room in our house has a ceiling stain. My brother is moving to Singapore in five days and counting. Old family friend has pancreatic cancer. My mom’s great-aunt died just today. Another old family friend died in Hungary right before Christmas.
Am I forgetting something? No. I think that’s it.
So, Grandma… I remember when I was in college my uncle was sick with lung cancer. During one of my summer visits home from college I talked to him on the phone and he said, “you know, this might be the last time we talk.” I brushed him off. I was a stupid, cocky teenager, what did I know? People just did not die back then. Period.
And what do you know? He was right. That was the last time we ever talked.
This summer when we were in Hungary to visit Grandma, I was sure that we would see her again next summer. So sure. Because yes, she was weak and getting old, and all that, but for crying out loud, she is Grandma. She does not die. Apparently I am still a stupid, cocky teenager.
When we arrived in Budapest last August my dad and I joked that once there’s nobody meeting you at the airport, you know that you are just a tourist, passing through some exotic city. Now not only do we not have anyone meeting us at the airport, there’s no one waiting for there at all. Ever.
I am sad about Grandma. Selfishly, I am mostly sad because her death means that whatever little connection I had to Hungary is now pretty much gone. Sure, there are friends and distant relatives and those matter too, but they are not the same.
Grandma’s death brought forth two urges in me: 1. To stay in bed all day, because I mean, what’s the point if we are all going to die? 2. To get out of bed and appreciate the ability to get out of bed, Sam’s morning breath, the leak in our bedroom ceiling, etc. These two urges seem to be taking turns oh, I don’t know, every 10 minutes or so.
I guess my biggest problem is that whatever internal resources I had within me in the past to overcome difficult times seem to be completely gone now. I mean, I know I don’t need to pull myself out of the gutter right away after so many things happening, but even the simple act of getting through the day is taxing. Maybe that’s normal. Maybe I just never had adversity like this before so it’s more difficult. Who knows. Not even shopping helps. And really, the food’s not helping either, so maybe I need to stop binging. Ugh.
In order not to tempt faith, I do want to say that as long as Sam is OK, I will be OK. He is amazing, sweet, loving, and incredibly soft. And may God keep him that way.