Lord, Look At What State I'm In

Entry 1

Memorabilia

"It's that little souvenir of a terrible year
 Which makes my eyes feel sore. . ."

I don't want to say I stay home a lot, but the only time I ever leave the house is to get groceries or money to pay the handyman. That is it. For months. I wish it were different. If I could get my shit together. . . I would be a happier man. I am not completely isolated. While I haven't answered the phone for anyone but my kids, I do speak to them. I am honest with Leiney when talking about my mood, I don't discuss with the younger child at all--nor does she inquire.

Babysitting Coop @ Ocean Park circa 2010.


Ain't it funny how time just slips away? The other evening, when speaking to Leiney, she asked if I would like to have dinner on March 3. I told her I would like to say yes, but for some reason thought there was something I had to do that day. Something I had to do.  .  . She politely reminded me that the thing in the back of my mind I couldn't quite place my finger on is that March 3 is the anniversary of Jenny's death. Here I sit in this morass, this bouillabaisse of self-loathing and self-pity, unable to reckon through my days without keeping one eye closed to focus, and I can't recall such a seminal date? Really? Leiney tried to make it better by telling me she too had recalled the date was important earlier that week, but had struggled to remember why. In clarity, the four of us, Jenny, Leiney, Jane and I, were together that day when Jenny breathed her last breath. My recollection  is the three of us surrounded Jenny, who was taking breaths about once every 30-60 seconds (and had been doing that for several hours), when I looked up and noticed she was gone. I hate that she died, hate that the kids had to go through all that they did, but am glad Leiney was there to see her mother exit so peacefully.

Going Like Sixty

Tonight is the celebration of my sister's 60th birthday somewhere in Kirkland. I haven't RSVP'd. It's a

Whidbey Island, 2020.

formal event, I haven't had my shirt or suit pressed. I am sitting here not listening to an exploration of what GPT 5.0 will mean; hearing Willow bark outside; and trying to write this entry and format it correctly. I did call and wish her a birthday, however happy was up to her, on her birthday, she didn't answer, so my streak of not speaking to anyone other than my kids, my co-workers or my handyman continues. She called me once last week and twice last night, and when I didn't answer left emojis expressing anger and a threat to have a wellness check done on me. It was an obvious bluff. I didn't return her call. I'd be lying if I were to say I intend to go tonight, but I wish it weren't so. No one deserves such disrespectful treatment, I get that. She won't turn 60 again. Why can't I be better, behave as I should?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years ago on this day, things were taking a turn:

https://jesushchristonacrutch.blogspot.com/2022/02/i-get-lost-in-my-mind.html

 May Jenny's suffering be over for eternity.

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