All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
Mood:
comme ci comme ca
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
home again home again
Got in just a little after midnight.
It's nice being home but we both feel guilt. No, we could not stay, not even another day. Between trying to recoup from the break in and getting the kids caught back up in school after missing a week, we had to come home.
It seems trivial in some way. I mean, we're talking about the imminent death of a loved one. What's school work in light of that?
*sigh*
The rational part of me (and the one I wish would take a flying a leap) knows that when Yury dies, our lives will still go on and we need to be just as prepared for that as we have to be prepared for his death. And Yury was a workaholic - I firmly believe he was a little pissed at us for closing the store for a week, even if he couldn't express it.
That didn't make saying goodbye any easier. He still wouldn't make the effort with M., something that boiled my blood. Even Bella couldn't get over how his face would change and the hugs or kisses on the cheek he'd give me every time I walked in the room. Not even my kids got that from him. I just wanted to shake him or slap him or something, something to make him give that same recognition to his sons and grand kids.
I don't know. I really don't.
Like you said, Shy - after the doctor gave him about a week, the home-care nurse said to expect him to be around a bit longer, that it could be a week to a month. His heart is as strong as a mule's. A week would be a blessing.
But he did have an "up" day. He got out of bed, came downstairs, wandered around the livingroom and kitchen for a while. He was friendly and talkative (though his speech is so slurred now it's very difficult to understand him).
I couldn't begin to describe the joyful atmosphere in the home that night, even after he'd gone back to bed. M., D. (brother-in-law), A. (D's fiancee) and myself sat out on the front stoop, having a beer and smoking Colt's (filtered cigars, for those not familiar). We talked about the wedding - it's put off at least until Spring, about D.'s business plans, about going to Vegas in January.
We discussed the future.
The unspoken was there, of course. Yury's shade from days to come was with us but we didn't acknowledge it. We spoke past it.
I need to hold on to that night. It was more sweet than chocolate.
soundtrack:
It's nice being home but we both feel guilt. No, we could not stay, not even another day. Between trying to recoup from the break in and getting the kids caught back up in school after missing a week, we had to come home.
It seems trivial in some way. I mean, we're talking about the imminent death of a loved one. What's school work in light of that?
*sigh*
The rational part of me (and the one I wish would take a flying a leap) knows that when Yury dies, our lives will still go on and we need to be just as prepared for that as we have to be prepared for his death. And Yury was a workaholic - I firmly believe he was a little pissed at us for closing the store for a week, even if he couldn't express it.
That didn't make saying goodbye any easier. He still wouldn't make the effort with M., something that boiled my blood. Even Bella couldn't get over how his face would change and the hugs or kisses on the cheek he'd give me every time I walked in the room. Not even my kids got that from him. I just wanted to shake him or slap him or something, something to make him give that same recognition to his sons and grand kids.
I don't know. I really don't.
Like you said, Shy - after the doctor gave him about a week, the home-care nurse said to expect him to be around a bit longer, that it could be a week to a month. His heart is as strong as a mule's. A week would be a blessing.
But he did have an "up" day. He got out of bed, came downstairs, wandered around the livingroom and kitchen for a while. He was friendly and talkative (though his speech is so slurred now it's very difficult to understand him).
I couldn't begin to describe the joyful atmosphere in the home that night, even after he'd gone back to bed. M., D. (brother-in-law), A. (D's fiancee) and myself sat out on the front stoop, having a beer and smoking Colt's (filtered cigars, for those not familiar). We talked about the wedding - it's put off at least until Spring, about D.'s business plans, about going to Vegas in January.
We discussed the future.
The unspoken was there, of course. Yury's shade from days to come was with us but we didn't acknowledge it. We spoke past it.
I need to hold on to that night. It was more sweet than chocolate.
soundtrack:
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