I just re-read the few blogs I've written in the past year. Didn't write much. need to get better about that.
Of course, one of the few I wrote was in June -- because June is a bad month for me. And now it's much worse.
I can't believe I haven't written about what has happened the past few months. Maybe writing makes it too real. On April 15 of this year, I got a phone call from my ex-husband's mom. My youngest son, J, was supposed to leave for Texas the next day for his annual spring break visit with his dad. Bob's mom called to tell me that Bob was in the hospital and that I shouldn't send J. They thought he had a stroke. So, I cancelled J's trip.
My youngest stepdaughter, Linda, left that night for Texas (from Louisiana). By Sunday, the hospital was saying that it was prescription drug withdrawal and sent him home. At that point, we decided to send my oldest son, C. He flew into Texas Thursday morning. Linda left the next day. C and I talked daily. His dad was not doing very well -- hallucinating, not knowing where he was.
Still, I expected things to get better. They didn't. C was supposed to come home the following Monday. That morning at 530am, he called me and said he was taking his dad to the hospital. A half hour later, Linda called saying the hospital had called her and said that Bob had a heart attack and was in critical condition. At 7am, C called me.
His dad was gone.
What?
How can that be?
Two months later, I'm still numb. And pissed off. And sad.
I need to write more about the whole "trip to Texas" experience. But not now.
I was talking about June.
The boys always went to visit their dad in June. Because Fathers day is in June. And Bob's birthday is June 23.
Needless to say, it has been a rough few weeks. And, of course, today is the anniversary of my mom's death. 25 years. Feels like yesterday. That hole inside of me is still there. And now my boys have holes too.
June sucks.
