We decided to move, as you all know. We needed new energy and a new base of operations. We started moving stuff the last week of May and it all culminated in the movers showing up on Sunday to get all the big stuff. We used Big League Movers (Excellent, big shout out to them on Yelp.) We’d wrangled Comcast on Friday the 13th with a full moon during a Mercury retrograde without incident and staged all our crap on Saturday. Sunday went well, but it was a long day. We were exhausted in every sense.
Monday we had DirecTV coming out in the afternoon, so we decided to go get the fish tank that morning to get it over with. Moving a fish tank is a royal pain in the ass. We stopped at Chick Fil Hate for some breakfast and that’s when my brother called me. I knew it was bad news because he’d never call me during work unless it was. He told me that his best friend had been electrocuted on the job that morning. We’d known Aron Pack since 1978 or 79. Aron and Ricky were like peas and carrots.
I cried off and on most of the day Monday. My poor brother had lost his one solace from his shitty life. He and Aron would work on their Harleys together and Ricky would go to the lake with them. My brother was closer to the Pack family that he was to ours for sure. He and Aron were brothers in a very real sense.
On top of all this, Rob went on vacation for two weeks, leaving me “in charge” (HA HA!) of the bills for the taqueria. Of course, this normally would be no big deal, but with all the exhaustion of moving and the emotional upset of Aron’s death, it’s been VERY hard. The girl that is basically in charge of the store has fucked up all the orders and keeps asking me for checks EVERY GODDAM DAY. We just got back last night from the funeral (in TN) and she’s calling me asking that I drive over there to bring her a check for some beer that “just showed up”. I told her to send it the fuck back. We’ve never gotten along and she is being a total bitch to me since Rob isn’t around. Ugh.
Aron’s funeral was a typical horrible Southern affair. Open casket (even though he’d never wanted that), receiving line, public display of grief, wails from the wailing room, the whole thing. I refuse to approach the open caskets in general, because I want to remember the person alive, not dead. If I see the body, that’s the only thing I’ll remember. I know, because it’s happened with my cats. I didn’t see my granny and I’m not sorry about that. Anyway, I sat next to my brother for the funeral service and felt the hurt and sorrow flow from him. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m actually very empathic, but I tend to keep it turned off as much as I can because I find it clouds my judgement and causes me to take on others’ drama. But in this case, I turned it on and tried to take as much of my brother’s pain as I could. Probably not the best thing for me, but I did it anyway. I’ve never seen such hurt in his eyes. Never. (I did pay for it, as I completely broke down last night, again. Nick did his best to comfort me. Thank the gods for xanax.)
My poor brother is a very good guy. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he would (and does) do anything for anyone who needs help. His life is a shit sandwich. He’s got a job he doesn’t like and is low paying. He’s got a 17 year old daughter that is hell on wheels, who has done nothing but cause drama for the last several years – especially since her drug dealer mother was murdered. She got knocked up on purpose and is now shacked up with some idiot 20 year old that she’s known for, oh, three months. My brother lives with two parents in their 70s who are in declining health. My father has dementia and emphysema. He remembers nothing. He’s asked me at least a dozen times where I’ve moved to, if it’s a bigger place and if it’s more expensive. My mother has been hospitalized for several weeks for an as yet unnamed neurological disease that has rendered her 75% immobile.
And now my brother lost his best friend. It is heartbreaking. As we stood graveside in the boiling heat yesterday morning, I looked up at the clear blue sky and heard birds singing. It made me even sadder. The world goes on. The most horrible things happen and the sun rises and the birds sing. We adapt. But it sure does HURT.
Aron’s death has scared me, badly. Aron’s wife Tina has lost her husband of 17 years. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. She said goodbye as he left for work like any other morning and now he’s gone. I can’t help but identify with that. If I lost Nick like that, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t have family support. I’ve got a few close friends, but I am pretty self contained. I tend to not rely on people very much since I’ve had so many people fuck me over (especially the family). I can’t help but be afraid of what would happen to me if I lost Nick. I think I’d sell everything and move overseas. I’d be lost, that’s for sure. Or maybe I’d choose to check out as well. It’s a definite possibility, I won’t lie.
So that’s what’s been going on the last couple of weeks. It’s been hard. I’m physically and mentally spent. We are missing Heroes AND the Atlanta Gaming Expo. I still feel emotionally fragile, like tears could happen any minute. ::sigh::
So, be careful when you poke the Universe, folks. You just might get more than you bargained for.
We’ve got to go to Maplehurst today for the final items: fans, plants, bird feeders, etc. I just want all this to be OVER. We’ve not even touched the boxes here. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me much for the next month or so. I just need to regroup and set up my house. Please don’t call me. You can text or message on FB, but just don’t call. I’m over the phone right now.