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April 5,2012
Well, Christopher (the two-and-a-half-year-old) had me up at 6 am.
I was sandwiched between the two boys, Nico (the four-year-old) and Christopher. I didn't want to move so as not to disturb them. Then, like a flash flood, the day started. Both boys are up. I get them dressed. Drive Nico to school. Christopher and I return home.
It's been twenty-one days since Mimie died and 6 years since we lost the twins. Even though Mimie left the gift of our boys, I can not get motivated in life right now. I feel so alone because I still grieve the loss of Sophia and Gabriella, and the only person who understood that is now gone herself.
I am still shocked and at a loss for words. When I finally got home from dropping Nico off at school, I put some things away and threw some other things that had been lying around staring out at me to the point where they had to be thrown away.
The house is a wreck because I haven't done shit with the place since her death.
I made a few important phone calls. The first call was to the Social Security office, and the second was to Nico's doctor. I want him and Christopher to be checked out to ensure he and his brother are okay due to everything happening. Making these calls suck. With every call I have to make, I get angry. It seems surreal to me. It's a dream. A big fucking nightmare. It's like the movie Groundhog Day, which stars Bill Murray; only the days pass to the next, but my situation currently stays the same.
I received some texts today from people wanting to vent to me about their problems in life.
People are texting me, telling me about their problems, and explaining to me all the reasons why they are "really stressed out." Are you freaking kidding me?!
I don't say anything negative, but this makes me curious. I have so much on my plate. My life seems in disarray, and I am stressed out to the max, and the only thing functioning for me are my bowels, yet people are confiding in me their own problems. Is it because they don't want me to think I am the only one with issues and that it is okay to be stressed out? Does the thought of my situation stress them out?
Mimie told me once, "People always gravitate to you; you are so approachable, and you make people feel comfortable."
If texting me about their problems comforts them, so be it. I won't shoot down the message; I'll just read.
I wanted to go to Barnes and Noble to get some cookbooks for the kids and find a way to get them better alternatives for eating. I have been cooking them meals, but they thumb their nose at it. Feeding them is complex, and I am tired of eating out every night. The good thing is they'll be sick of fast food by the time this ordeal is over.
When I got to Barnes and Noble, I attempted to ask the clerk at the Customer Service desk for assistance. She wasn't nice to me. Like a mean old librarian, she was crass with me and quick to cut me off. She didn't listen to anything I had to say. I was biting my tongue because I feared my mouth wouldn't stop once it started. My mood is shitty, and I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I won't be pleasant. I think someone will kick my ass eventually so much for being approachable.
I allow Baby (Christopher) to run around the store because, screw it, this ain't no library; let him run.
"Fuck me," I'm thinking as I look through all the cookbooks trying to find a kid-friendly one. "It's food, just food. I can't believe kids need a special one!"- I scream.
I can't believe I am actually doing this shit alone. How the fuck did I get here. How did this happen, Mimie?
Most of the cookbooks were learning how to cook, cookbooks for a budding child chef. Next to the cookbooks were the bridal books, kind of chauvinistic if you ask me, and this lady was going through them.
She was wearing the same color shirts as the staff, and I almost asked her, "Where are the cooking books for kids?" But then I realized that she didn't work for Barnes and Noble. She was looking at the bridal books for herself. When this dawned on me, I thought about how embarrassing it would have been to ask her for the cookbook.
Then, I realized I was shocked that she was looking at the bridal books. "She couldn't possibly be getting married, could she? She's hideous." -mean to think I know.
I am trying to understand why I wrote this part in my blog. Out of guilt and to clear my mind from the rude comment and the guilt I feel for thinking about it, possibly?
So, I had the unpleasant task of asking the same rude clerk earlier where I could find cooking for children.
I approached her and began to speak, " Umm ma....." she walked away like she never heard me. My voice trailed off as I watched her walk away. It serves me right for the bridal comment in my mind.
I choose "Cooking Rocks Rachel Ray 30-Minute Meals For Kids" and " The Everything Kids Cookbook."
Six hours goes fast for any kid in school. Well, for parents anyway. So, as soon as I picked up Nico (the oldest) from school, we headed right for the pediatrician.
I was relaxed when I got there, but quickly, the anxiety rolled over me. I remember that before this trip, Mimie and I had come here together. I last came here less than a month ago for Nico's wellness check. I took Nico alone then so Mimie could stay home and relax. It's always a big show with them there. They hate the doctor.
The girl at the intake asked me," if the phone number on file is current."
"It's my wife's." I said, "I can give you mine."
Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I had to fight to keep my composure with the realization that Mimie was gone. Due to her passing, I had to ask her to take Mimie off as the emergency contact. I immediately got the puppy dog eyes from the receptionist. I just wanted to crawl away. Please let this nightmare end.
Both boys were crying and carrying on because they were strapped in the stroller and wanted out very badly. They started pulling their bodies left and right violently, trying to remove themselves from the confines of the stroller. Everyone waiting in the lobby for the chance to see the doctor. It was quite an impressive feat, considering many kids were crying besides mine. Or I felt like all eyes were on me when they weren't.
If they only knew the pain we were all in. The misery we felt. How tired and confused we were with everything that was happening. I didn't want to be here. I just want to live on my couch. I want to disappear.
The receptionist gave me a form to fill out, and I sat far away from everyone else. With the clipboard and paperwork in one hand, I took both boys out of the stroller, thinking that would calm them down. That was a big mistake on my part.
Nico immediately climbed on my shoulders and straddled my neck. He wasn't getting off. I tried to read the paperwork through the head bobbling that Nico was causing without much success. From what I could read, this ordeal was a complete waste of time. We had just brought the boys here a month ago!
"Who gives a shit about their race? It says it's optional!" I thought to myself. "Nico was just here."
Christopher wouldn't let me put him down. He would roll on my lap like a fish out of water. To keep him calm, I would bounce him on my knee. I had a three-ring circus going on in my area. I entertained the boys and filled out the paperwork, and I could hardly concentrate. My pen bounced around like a polygraph machine.
"Good luck reading that," I chuckled, wiping my tears away.
Finally, we were called in to see the doctor.
Which I know is just a tease. The staff just put me in the dummy room and had me wait another hour. The assistant did all the pre-workup by checking Nico's vitals to show progress, but I knew better. I knew we'd be there for a while.
The stress of handling the boys by myself was getting to me. I couldn't take it anymore. My emotional state wasn't ready for all this stimulation. And the thought of doing this all the time alone made me dizzy.
I sat in the hallway where the blood pressure cuff was holding Nico. I had strapped Christopher back in the stroller. He was not happy. I was yelling and screaming. He was just inside the room, and I was just outside, about 8 feet away. We were in eye contact with each other.
While the assistant was getting blood pressure from Nico, I began to well up into tears and zoned out. I was focused on the eye chart about 25 feet from my seat.
"E, Z, D..."
The chart was tapped to the door, and I tried my best to read the bottom line. The tears streamed down my face; I did not wipe them.
Nico was struggling with me and crying. I was just going through the motions of holding him tight. The assistant knew the circumstances as to why I was there and Mimie's death. She tried to comfort me, but I was hearing her. I was just trying to make out that damn last line.
She snapped her fingers at me.
"Dad," snap of her fingers, "Dad," she said sternly as if I was one of her pediatric patients.
I looked in her direction, dazed. I wiped the tears from my eyes, thinking the water might knock some sense into me. My eyes looked indirectly at her as if I was intoxicated by alcohol. Still, it was more of an intoxication of my grief.
"It's okay," she said. "We all gotta go through this at some time in our life [referring to the loss of a loved one]. It's only a matter of when."
I looked directly into her eyes. She never broke eye contact with me. I wiped my face with my shirt and listened to her instructions. She wasn't supposed to help me beyond the blood pressure, but she stayed by my side and helped me the rest of the visit.
That statement calmed me for the rest of their physical and shots. I played with the boys the entire time while we waited. 2 hours. We ended the day with milkshakes and went home for the rest of the night, capping it off with Shrek Forever After.
She's right, this sucks, and we all go through dealing with the death of a loved one at one time or another; it's just a matter of when we do.
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