Sunday, September 30, 2007

I Suppose It's Time To Be A Grown-Up

My beautiful Papi's birthday was tainted by the death of his sister; a definite cloud over the family right now. Not because we were particularly close to her- she was okay and all, but I barely knew her, plus I heard she was mean to my grandma back in the day- but because little by little a generation of us is disappearing, and no one wants to admit that pretty soon, we'll be next.

Especially me.

You may not know this about me, but I'm pretty spoiled. I was spoiled by my family, and then later as adult by my ex-husband. Whatever I wanted, one way or another *POOF* I got it. There was always someone on whose lap I could rest my head and cry, "Whoa is me!" Soon, though- sooner than I'd like- there won't be anyone like that around. And that will suck ass.

To add to my impending forced maturation, my mom's health is teetering. It's leaning towards VERY VERY SICK. And me being the oldest, well, you know how it goes. I can't handle that, folks. I just can't. It's been almost a decade since my grandma passed and I still cry over that at least once a week. I'm just plumb not strong enough to deal with losing anybody else, or seeing them sick, or visiting anyone else in anymore hospitals. I can handle a million rejections from a million and one publishers, magazines and journals, but a death in the family reduces me to a quivering bowl of Jell-O.

And sometimes I look out at the full moon from my bedroom window and think to myself, Wow, one day I won't be able to lie here and stare at that moon. I'll be in the ground somewhere and I won't be able to see that beautiful full moon. And that really really sucks ass.

But no, there's no wallowing allowed in this house, unfortunately. Because I have two young-uns to bring up and, although I enjoy being the Jaded NYer that I am, I'd rather not have my babies going around thinking the glass is half empty. I'd much rather they think: "Hey, who the hell drank my water and when can I kick their ass?"

*smooches...wishing that death would just eat a bag of dicks!*
I can always find someone
To say they sympathize
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve
But I don't want some pretty face
To tell me pretty lies
All I want is someone to believe