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All I do all day these days is talk to people about life and death, life and death. I'm always trying to keep these people alive who are clutching onto these little strings of life after years of smoking, lung removals, lobectomies, valve replacements, knee replacements, people on this life-sustaining drug or that, people who are on medications and regimens and with so many extra sterile medical implements holding their body together that if it were me..? If it were me, I'd probably be living with a cloud over my head reminding me that with all these twenty crucial things working in concert to keep my ticker tocking, there must be a moment when one of them malfunctions. The things people live with. Really. Terrifying.
Anyways. My Mom called just now and told me that my little old ladyfriend, Mrs. A, passed away on Sunday. At first, I thought I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't upset, but I just hung up and I know that I was. I don't know why, really. She was old. Old and sick and weak and tired. Her obituary said that donations in her name, in lieu of flowers, could be made to the hospice care place she was in for the last few weeks, or to the relig/cult she was in. Life is sad sometimes.
And I know that people think I'm so caring and so great and I'm great with people but I have to say that, right now, I'm embarrassed of myself. I forget to call people (my friends) all the time. I forget to call them back when they call me and I forget to email them and I forget to make plans to see them. I don't forget THEM, but I forget to stay in touch. That's not the worst of it. But this last week, since I got back from VA, I kept thinking how I needed to go visit Mrs. A and I just never remembered to make the time. And now she's gone and I feel like The Suck. It feels like the story of my life and the story of the way I treat my friendships with all of these precious people who love me for who-knows-why.
I really hate me. I hate my insides where nobody can see. I wonder, really, why anyone bothers to love me because I really don't know why anyone would go out on such a limb. Sometimes, caring means more than just words. Right now I just want Mark to be home to remind me that, knowing my good and bad as he does, I can be loved despite all these flaws that make me feel like such a sham sometimes.