Okay Lady. Silly Puppy.
I know I've been away for a bit, and I feel as though I owe some folks an explanation. That way, you can know what's been going on, and feel free to comment or not, however you prefer. The easiest way is to just come out and say it, without resorting to any prolific maneuvers. So here goes.
As many of you know, 2007 has not been a good year. In addition to all the little aches and pains that come with being the only grown up in the household, the Jman lost his job and what little money he brought in; we were forced to move and find a place that would accept my 105 lb BFF, who I ended up losing two months after the move; wee monkeygurl left me for the summer; and I've been in a bit of funk that self-medicating could not cure.
After bringing the WMG back from the house in Hawaii, the Grandparents went to their house in a small-town community in Northern California. Very rural, outside of Sacramento, but quickly becoming a bedroom community. Although we called every weekend, we were not told of what was going on. As it turns out, my mom expressly forbade my father from "worrying" us. On November 9, my father, an otherwise very stoic, hard-core career Marine (23 years, baby) called me at work, crying. Unbeknownst to me, the "cold" that my mother had come back from Hawaii with had been steadily progressing to something more serious. It turned into pnemonia, which led to the discovery of fibrosistic scarring of her lungs. By the time the call came, she had been in the hospital for 9 days and was fading fast. I flew up the next day.
Mom was a mess when I got there, and when downhill for the next two weeks. My oldest brother was there when I first arrived, but couldn't handle seeing Mom like that, so he left after the weekend. The other two brothers wouldn't even be bothered with my father's calls. The only way my father would even consider leaving the ICU was if I stayed there with Mom (I didn't disagree.) I won't go into all the medical mumbo-jumbo, but let me say I've seen and learned more about interstitial lung disease than I ever cared to know.
Mom died on November 21.
The following week was spent having heart-to-heart talks with a man I barely knew. Having been married for over 46 years, my father was understandably heartbroken and lost. To say my relationship with my mother was complex is to grossly understate the situation. Having to be the strong one was difficult. I hadn't been home in over two weeks, and given the rolling 8-hours-at-the-hospital/8-hours-off schedule of previous weeks, my tenuous grasp of reality had disappated. I had no access to a computer, nor really any time to spend on one, so I had absolutely no concept of what was going on in the outside world.
So. Back to LA, to make preparations for her memorial service, touch base with my employer to make sure I still had a job, and reconnect with my family to make sure they still knew who I was.
The sheer surreal insanity has final abated, somewhat, and I'm back to work and kind of feeling back to "normal" (for me, at least). However, I find myself in the midst of the "holiday" chaos, flailing like a drowning swimmer, just trying to keep my head above the water. Although I haven't much time for reflection, I do know that certain things will have to be set aside, at least for the time being. I love my blog friends, and I love reading about what you've been doing and I will probably continue to do that (just as soon as I catch up. . .), but as far as posting, well, I don't know. At least for the next month or two, I'm going to have to say, "Thank you. Love you. Bye-bye."