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a continuation and, now, here i sit... after my five-hour collapse into unconsciousness. my hair shaped into a perfect Devo/Kennedy-esque pompadour by the pillows. this, of all days. six years ago, to the day, was when i had to find out (after my mother's hysterical phone call), that my Grandmother was indeed dead. i had to place my hand on her flesh to make sure she wasn't only sleeping soundly. but, she was warm, no more... in the bed where she'd been imprisoned for months. in three more days, it will be the sixteen years, to the day, when my brother took his own life. after years of suffering with diabetes, losing his eyesight, losing kidney function... he could endure no more. last week, my mother informed me that her heart was enlarged, and malfunctioning. this, after learning about a lump in her throat some months ago. i have no flowery illusions about the month of February, as one could imagine. and they ask me why i'm superstitious. we were lucky enough, a few years ago, to cheat the Reaper with ony scratches as wounds, when we were rear-ended and flipped by a lead-footed, post-pubescent fool of a commercial trucker. who, consequently, was exonerated from attempted murder by the county patrolman who saw the whole thing, yet said nothing at the hearing. who also bolted for the door when it was over, lest he incur my fists. conspiracy theories, anyone? that was only a stay of my execution, i know. but at least it wasn't February. so, rather than obessing on mortality and unfairness, my mind goes to that happy place where ABBA testifies to the disco beat, dressed in white. survival skills, intact. waiting for the tow truck. if I had to do the same again, i would, my friend. Fernando. |
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