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| #microblogmonday |
One day last week, once I am not-too-comfortably seated on the first of two buses for the commute home, I open messages left throughout the day. (Work rules dictate that I cannot have my mobile device on my person while at my workstation). There, out of the dark, lay a voicemail from my father's second wife.
Chilled.
My father died Septenber 6, 2012. Five days after his 74th birthday. I didn't know it then, but my mother would die just barely 5 months later.
My insides have been as chilled as our outsides (temperatures plummeting from 60s to 30s in a twenty four hour cycle and staying there). My father's second wife (okay, okay . . my step-mother's) message did not warrant a call back, in fact, she didn't leave a call back number--so I didn't call her back. She called my brothers as well and they in turn (of course) eventually called me. A family issue and decisions. I know if she had had a choice, we (my brothers and me) would have been out of the loop.
To the bones.
Tears have been a large part of the last several days. Tears steeped in annoyance and more. The annoyance for the folks this call put in my world, put in play.Their ignorance of me (us) their incompetence and their intrusion. The more; grief, memories, lonliness for my mom's presence.
The upcoming week will mean more of the same for nothing is settled (yet). The issue at hand stands to haunt for many days beyond as one brother is out of sync with the other (and me). I trust this will hamper our becoming closer--for there has been little movement in that regard since our post mom's death discussion.
So, so cold.
The outside as well as on the inside for which no amount of layering will remedy.
