Well, Thanksgiving is upon us once again. I’m sitting here in my kitchen wondering why the only people who truly give a crap are the people who live hundreds of miles away. I know why…because they know they can offer to help you because they know you won’t show up.
One friend invited me to Thanksgiving dinner three years ago, I couldn’t go, I think it snowed. So we said next year. The following year she went to her husbands sister or something. Last year, she called “after the fact” and said “why didn’t you come to me for Thanksgiving?” Well, duh, you didn’t invite me…Well, duh, how am I supposed to know if you were home? Well, duh, what if I showed up and you weren’t there or you didn’t have enough to feed two extra people?
Do we really have friends in this world? NO. The only friend we truly have is ourselves.
The fabulous state of New Jersey has impeccable timing.
December 22, 2009 – the day of my Mom’s funeral.
We just returned home from the cemetery. Took off our coats and immediately there was a knock at the door…I was served with a foreclosure notice regarding my house. (I’m not going into the fact that the glorious state of New Jersey – who is my mortgage holder – has mortgage servicers who discriminate against disabled people. I will do that in another post.)
August 25, 2014 – The day I had to put my baby to sleep (exactly 17 years to the day that my dad passed away.)
I was in the backyard with Chippy, I just got off the phone with the veterinarian learning that there was no hope for Buddy to get better. I cried out there for a while and went back into the house. I sat down at the computer and there was a knock at the door. It was someone from the Sheriff’s Office there to give me the “Sheriff’s Sale” notice for my house.
The absolute worst day in my calendar is August 25th. It was on August 25th, 1997, I was sleeping around 9:00am. My daughter, who was seven at the time, came running into my bedroom yelling, “Mommy, come quick there’s something wrong with Popop.”
Emalee was only a few hours old in this picture. My Dad is holding her.
I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. The dogs were in the backyard and there was my Dad, bent backwards over the seat of the computer chair, not breathing and unresponsive. His lips were purple. I got him down on the floor and started CPR until the ambulance arrived.
They started CPR and took him to the hospital. When we got there, we were ushered into a private room where we were informed that “we did all we could, we’re very sorry.” It took me about two years to get over losing my dad. He was Emalee’s father figure, she was the apple of his eye.
Fast forward to August 25th, 2014…
I had to put my baby to sleep. Complications from diabetes…Diabetic Ketoacidosys. I’m heartbroken. It’s two months and I can’t get over it. If he was human, he probably would have been my soul mate. I don’t even cry, tears just come and keep on going for hours at a time.
Buddy, My Baby
Having just put him to sleep at about 3:00pm, I was standing on my front porch having a cigarette when a Sheriff’s car pulled up and promptly handed me “Sheriff’s Sale” papers for my house. My day was complete.
Follow me on my 25 year journey through my life in New Jersey. No one who knows me has ever seen such bad luck happen to any one person.
Of course, I will be posting things as I remember them so they won’t be in chronological order. The dates may or may not be exact, but my friends and family can attest to all of the horrible things that have happened to me.
No one deserves such a bumpy ride.