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I've just had one of those weird, sort of serendipitous moments. I was going through a stack of photos and memorabilia that my mom had saved over the years, and I ran across a journal that she had been working on. Seven years ago, she had a horrendous case of acute pancreatitis and spent about 4 months in the hospital. While she was convalescing, I gave her a journal book with a jar filled with questions about her life, loves and everything that might mean something to her. The idea was to pull a strip with a question out of the jar every day, then answer it in her journal. Truthfully, I never thought she would do it, but I was wrong. I found the journal, with the question strips inserted on the appropriate pages, and started reading it tonight. What a great gift for her to leave behind- she wrote about her marriage to my dad, favorite composers, etc. She didn't like Mozart- that sort of shocked me!
I've alluded to our difficulties in the past, but her passing was made especially hard because she pretty much left everything to two of my brothers, both meth addicts and one who is in prison for meth production at this time. I got- get this- .94 % of her estate, and my sister Bobbi (who did everything for her) got nothing. It's not the money, she didn't have much, but the principle. How the fvck did she arrive at .94%? I would have preferred a complete omission- my brain just can't figure out where the hell that number came from. All of our lives, she favored the boys and treated us girls like crap, and at the end it's the girls who are taking care of everything. (Including paying for her burial). The boys have not been around at all. Anyway, I've been very hurt and angry, but reading this journal sort of helped. I really think she just knew us girls would be okay, and left the money to the ones who would need it the most. Still, it would have been nice for her to say as much. (No will, of course). This past week I've been incredibly conflicted- alternating between sadness and anger and hatred- you name it. This morning I had to sign her burial papers and pick up her effects from the coroner, so I was especially stressed. Then, I happened across this journal, and it made me realize that we did mean at least a little something to her. I had to take a break while reading. so I went out on the deck. I heard a sound that made me look into the darkness of our yard, and less than five feet away from me a deer was standing, just staring at me. I held as still as I could, and the deer continued to stare intently for at least two minutes, then slowly walked away. I suddenly felt a lot better, about everything.
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