2005-07-12

Took the kids to grief couseling today. There's this class they go to for two months where they draw their lost loved one and eat goldfish and talk.

I got through signing them in and got to the car, then in traffic before it hit me. It just keeps hitting me at odd times. I suddenly realized that they were in grief counseling and it was because of Uncle Joe and, to top it off, "Veronica" by Elvis Costello came on the radio. And that was one of his favorite songs.

I had to pull over and my nephew (who's staying with me for the summer while my sister, hopefully, gets her priorities straight) looked at me like I was a little crazy. We'd had a similar incident when "Tell me why" by the Beatles came on the other week. I can't get over it. Every day, something reminds me of Uncle Joe.

Tonight, there was a moment on the way to Huntington Beach when I was going to pick up Aunt Crazy. That Harry Bellafonte song, don't know the title, it goes "Sad to say I'm on my way. I won't be back for many a day..." Well, that came on. And I had this vivid memory of Grandpop calling me in from the kitchen to listen to it when he was making his fifties CDs.

It just keeps clobbering me. Five months ago everything was fine. Then there was Grandpop. And then, while I still haven't fully dealt with it, Uncle Joe is gone. And Aunt Crazy's periodic suicide attempts. And the rejections from Avon and Harlequin. And my sister's possible verbal and physical abuse of her son. And the fact that the kids are making me feel really guilty for wanting to move back east. Uncle Mike gives me that, too. It just piles on me. I feel so smothered by worry.

I'd like nothing more then the chance to leave this family for a week. But I don't have that option. I'm needed. It's something that I crave, being needed. Knowing that everyone's calling 1-800-April as if I'm the only one that can fix things. And that craving for more people depending on me has gotten me in too deep. I offer too much never say "no" and end up resenting people who did nothing more than accept what was offered. It's just too much. I don't sleep more than three hours a night lately.

I should move to Rhode Island. I have a friend there. Maybe she went there to hide. Maybe we could move in and be spinsters together. I'll write trashy novels and she'll paint and we can hide from our families.

Except I'd never do that. I also have this yen to be the dutiful daughter and have people always say how good and dependable I am.

I'm such a spinster aunt.

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In better news, I liked Bride and Prejudice. And I'm doing a very complicated puzzle with crazily-shaped pieces.

Yeah. That's kind of all.