Saturday, November 29, 2008
Reflection(warning: whining ahead)
It's very quiet here in Castle Marius this morning. It's cool enough that the ever running fans are silent. The Child-O-The-Apocalypse is at her grandparents, and even the usual post-breakfast feline house trashing is over. The only sounds are the bubbling of the cats' water dispenser, and the ticking of the bathroom clock. And in this relative silence I find myself pondering the events of the past six months or so. I know that death and sickness are the natural consequences of life, but I somehow thought there would be another twenty years or so before I would have to grapple with those particular horsemen. Thursday, as you all know, was Thanksgiving here in the states, so as soon as Mrs. Marius got off work we piled into our remaining vehicle and went South. Four hours later we dropped the CoA off at her grandparents' and went to see my folks. I had intended to cook dinner for my parents, a plan I had hatched before my mom took ill, but several people descended upon them ere I could arrive and gifted them with enough turkey, stuffing, and other traditional dishes that all we needed to do was show up and help warm the plates. All things considered my mom looks well. She has put on a bit of weight since I saw her in the hospital, and the radiation treatments did not rob her of all her hair. She is very weak, however, and has little to no appetite. So dinner was shared by my dad, wife, and me. Hercules, the Shi-tzu puppy that is the newest addition to the household, was oblivious to the dampened spirits at the table, and it was a tasty, if not overly festive meal. After dinner was cleared we visited for a while longer, but soon everyone was yawning, and we left to go back to the In-Law's for pie and sleep.
Yesterday my wife and her mother braved the sales of Black Friday, and I even went out to get some shoes. All too soon, however, it was time to come home as Mrs. Marius was only able to get one day off. So now I sit in a dark, chilly, nearly silent house and try my best not to succumb to the cloying tendrils of woe that beckon just beyond my periphery. Perhaps this will help: Dear Santa, I have been a very good boy this year, and would really like it if you could kindly ask the universe to stop kicking us in the balls...just for a little while.
Sorry for the bummer of a post, and I hope none of you actually read this. There just seems to be something cathartic about posting my sorrows. It's almost like an emotional ipecac. I've been bottling this up for a while now, not wanting to unload on you all, my wonderful intertube friends. And don't worry, I'm sure before long there will be some news story that sets me off, or another Star Trek tidbit that stokes my outrage furnace anew, and The Corner will be a fun place again.
At least I really hope so.