email I wrote to a friend I decided to post. Made me feel better.
Thanks. It's harder when people are nice, I don't know why. I already got into a screaming match with Anna about pitying me. She can't talk to me without using that stupid sugar voice and asking how I am. She knows damn well how I am. Cranky and missing Dad. Michelle's been great, though. My sister and I got into an argument so she came and got me and told me it's OK that I was being a jerk since I was under a lot of stress and so was Becki. Then she bought me copious ammount of chocolate (OK, not copious, but she did get me a chocolate oreo cookie shake from Burger King with extra whipped cream and cookie crumbles. It's amazing what a few tears and a break down at the BK will get you!)
Mom and I are thinking of moving. Now that she doesn't need to keep her job at Sitel to keep Dad's insurance, she's free to go to a new job, too. I'm thinking of becoming a keno writter. A friend of mine did it for a while and had a good time, and my boobs are SO much better then his, so I'll get good tips. He wasn't even a B cup.
(Got into a discussion about boobs on line with a few friends. We were mentioning how one of us had a reduction, so I now have the biggest boobs in Boobs of Ragnarok. ((First rule of Boobs of Ragnarok is: Don't Talk about Boobs of Ragnarok. The second rule is to remember that Pi is an Irrational Number and thus cannot be as the fraction m/n when M and N are integers.)) Someone new was uncomfortable talking about comparing sizes, and asked, "How did we get into this conversation and how do we get out?" "Well, not through the door, at least, Heather's boobs are blocking it.")
So it'll be just Mom and I, now. We didn't realize just how much of our time was spent in taking care of Dad. In the end he was jsut so tired. They took him off the ventilator and he fell into a deep sleep. He woke up a few times, but each time it was a little left. His last words were to ask if all we kids were gone, since he didn't want to die in front of us. Then he went peacefully.
Rose feels the worst. She can't get over the fact that Dad left only a few minutes after she did. She feels like she failed, or something, and it hurts me that I can't do anything for her. She'll come around, though. I am. It's slow and hard, but, it will happen. Dad didn't want to die in front of us.
(OK, it's not actually Boobs of Ragnarok. It's Beauties. We're a guild in a game and we bring death, destrction and romance to the unwashed, evil masses. But since it's a fantasy game we all look like Red Sonja or Nichelle Nichols. B.o.R. We actually took over the guild from the Brothers of Ragnarok. Yeah, they WISHED they could fight like girls!)
When we were kids he would smile as he gave himself insulin since we didn't want it to hurt him. Becki went to school one day and was telling kids about Dad. "He works at the Post Office. He wears GREAT big black pants GREAT big black jackets GREAT big black shoes and GREEEEEAAAAAT big white underwear! Oh, yeah, and he shoots up every day and smiles."
Being social just makes me really tired, though. Talking on the phone is so draining. eMail is better. Instant messaging is right out, though. I think I'll be much better Saturday after the service. It's at 510-something on 50th and F, something Lakshmi and something. I dunno; there's a No Frills. It's across the street to the north. We're not doing much, just music and mingling. 11 to about noon, or when one of us kids breaks down.
I can't help it; I'm still snarky and trying to be cheerful. I think it's my nature to not be one emotion for too long; I feel like Tinkerbell, sometimes. She's so tiny she can only hold one emotion inside at once. Being annoyed at Anna seems to have knocked grief right out. And being snarky. I can't help but be snarky.
But, I think I'm going to finish up for now and go distract myself. I've got some new CDs (Yar! Captain Jewel Casiel sails again! Yar!) and purple yarn, so I'm going to crochet a jelly fish.
Take care of yourself!
Heather
Mom and I are thinking of moving. Now that she doesn't need to keep her job at Sitel to keep Dad's insurance, she's free to go to a new job, too. I'm thinking of becoming a keno writter. A friend of mine did it for a while and had a good time, and my boobs are SO much better then his, so I'll get good tips. He wasn't even a B cup.
(Got into a discussion about boobs on line with a few friends. We were mentioning how one of us had a reduction, so I now have the biggest boobs in Boobs of Ragnarok. ((First rule of Boobs of Ragnarok is: Don't Talk about Boobs of Ragnarok. The second rule is to remember that Pi is an Irrational Number and thus cannot be as the fraction m/n when M and N are integers.)) Someone new was uncomfortable talking about comparing sizes, and asked, "How did we get into this conversation and how do we get out?" "Well, not through the door, at least, Heather's boobs are blocking it.")
So it'll be just Mom and I, now. We didn't realize just how much of our time was spent in taking care of Dad. In the end he was jsut so tired. They took him off the ventilator and he fell into a deep sleep. He woke up a few times, but each time it was a little left. His last words were to ask if all we kids were gone, since he didn't want to die in front of us. Then he went peacefully.
Rose feels the worst. She can't get over the fact that Dad left only a few minutes after she did. She feels like she failed, or something, and it hurts me that I can't do anything for her. She'll come around, though. I am. It's slow and hard, but, it will happen. Dad didn't want to die in front of us.
(OK, it's not actually Boobs of Ragnarok. It's Beauties. We're a guild in a game and we bring death, destrction and romance to the unwashed, evil masses. But since it's a fantasy game we all look like Red Sonja or Nichelle Nichols. B.o.R. We actually took over the guild from the Brothers of Ragnarok. Yeah, they WISHED they could fight like girls!)
When we were kids he would smile as he gave himself insulin since we didn't want it to hurt him. Becki went to school one day and was telling kids about Dad. "He works at the Post Office. He wears GREAT big black pants GREAT big black jackets GREAT big black shoes and GREEEEEAAAAAT big white underwear! Oh, yeah, and he shoots up every day and smiles."
Being social just makes me really tired, though. Talking on the phone is so draining. eMail is better. Instant messaging is right out, though. I think I'll be much better Saturday after the service. It's at 510-something on 50th and F, something Lakshmi and something. I dunno; there's a No Frills. It's across the street to the north. We're not doing much, just music and mingling. 11 to about noon, or when one of us kids breaks down.
I can't help it; I'm still snarky and trying to be cheerful. I think it's my nature to not be one emotion for too long; I feel like Tinkerbell, sometimes. She's so tiny she can only hold one emotion inside at once. Being annoyed at Anna seems to have knocked grief right out. And being snarky. I can't help but be snarky.
But, I think I'm going to finish up for now and go distract myself. I've got some new CDs (Yar! Captain Jewel Casiel sails again! Yar!) and purple yarn, so I'm going to crochet a jelly fish.
Take care of yourself!
Heather