Let. It. Be.

 

I had a cousin. Her name was Jenna. She was 31 and died this last winter of brain cancer. She was brave. Always optimistic. Her mom, herself, and her sister all got matching tattoos that read ‘Let it be’ from the Beetles song.

Not saying they were big Beetles groupies, but they liked the idea behind the song, and to not sweat the small stuff.

They threw a party in Jenna’s memory, and at that party a friend made necklaces out of pop tops, with an image of a peach (Jenna’s nickname was Peaches) and it said ‘Let it be’ over it.

I wear it often, because lately I’ve had to channel my inner Jenna, to remind myself that life is to short to sweat the details, the childish behavior of some people, the petty fighting, the name calling. It’s all to much anymore.

My life is too short to fight over this. My energy is not worth the anxiety. My children don’t need me back in ‘ANGRY MOM’ mode. It’s just not fair.

I took this picture of myself last night. I was sitting on my parents fireplace ledge. I was happy to be celebrating my birthday, but mentally exhausted from the weeks before of all the drama around what is supposed to be the planning of a trip to the happiest place on earth.

I am strong. I am tired. I am done. I’m tired of insults. Of words that hurt. Of crushed souls. Of greed. Of hate. Of who’s side are you on?  I want to ‘Let it be’. In the words of Jenna, Carol and Tess… oh and the Beetles… can we please just ‘Let it be’

Feisty

Money is a figment of my imagination now.

Does not exist.

I write this in tears.

I just hung up the phone with my dad. Whom I had to call and borrow $350 from.

NOT something anyone wants to do. My dad is very, very structured in his bills, and taught me well. I once was obsessive with bills, and money.

Now with kids for some reason I suck at it. I don’t have the patience to sit and track, and instead of buying groceries, we eat fast food. I just check and in the last 10 days we spent over $70 in fast food alone.

That. is. bullshit.

We are broke. Broke as shit.

It’s annoying, and it’s embarrassing. We are doing our dampest to make ends meet, and we get close, then we end up with a lazy 10 days and wonder what was I thinking? Just last week I wanted to really get into the office, and get back into my OCD ledger and file system.

But I was busy, then I got sick… I hate most of all pretending like we are not broke. I usually don’t. I’m honest with everyone that we have NO money.

Yes the economy is in the shitter, but I’m talking NO nothing outside of basics… except now I notice fast food seems to be our little perk?!

Gross.

So I’m bitter because I’m over weight, and now I’m more bitter because I spent $70 on fast food and we are super broke, and, AND I had to call my dad.

NOT happy. Very pissed.

He said he didn’t want to lecture me. He said he thought he did it enough when he was teaching me common sense. He said to treat yourself, it’s a must in this life. BUT make it a treat. Not an every day, or every other day thing.

Fanfuckingtastic that we are leaving for Arizona in 4 days. Not on my budget.

My inlaws are footing the WHOLE bill. Travel, food, lodging (they have a place they snow bird to) you name it. Awesome.

I love Spaghetti’s real day job, I do. I respect his boss, and the company, he’s been there going on 13 years.

It’s the shit hole video store. OMG I want to strangle those bitches. The are ALWAYS fucking calling the house. He is PART. TIME. as in no more then 15 hours, and NO MORE THEN 5 hour shifts!

OMG they screw him, KNOWING he is Mr. Nice Guy and won’t say no. Take tonight, supposed to be out at 10:30? They call at dinner, 2 hours before his shift… he’s closing. Which is now after midnight.

WTF. And he works the extra hours knowing we could use the extra money. Then there is Wrigley Field, YES he works at for the Chicago Cubs, he sells beer, makes good money doing it too. That helps. BUT we live over an hour south of Wrigleyville, and that’s not counting traffic. So a 4 hour shift of selling beer is a 10 hour day. Easy.

While I sit home and twiddle my thumbs.

Well care for our house, almost 5 and 3 year old children, two boxers, two cats and at the current moment (last 2 months) his parents diabetic cat too. AND the stress of the bills.

Fuck this. Fuck being a grown up. I quit. Tax return? Super, that my friends is going for the property taxes, because Illinois likes to rape us sideways in the tax department… someone again remind me why we live here?!?

I’m done. I need to NOW call Spaghetti and tell HIM I borrowed money from my dad. This should go over real well.

Then I’m going to go to bed. This day blows. Oh and I have a fucking head cold, my eyes water, my nose runs, and I sneeze every 10 minutes. Damn it. Hoping tomorrow is better… sigh.

Oh, and thanks for reading. Not one of my prettier posts, but that’s what you’re here for Blogger, the good the bad and the what the fuck moments.

Feisty

Blindsided.

(Spaghetti's Aunt N, his Cousin, Cuz, and his Uncle T. July 2009)

You know those people that you love? The ones you call family? Do me a favor.

Go hug them. All of them. If you can't call them and tell them you love them.

We are all busy. Very busy people. We sometimes say, maybe next year, maybe next birthday we will do it big. How about in a few years we go there.

Well for Cuz (Spaghetti's cousin) she learned a lesson on maybe next time...

Spaghetti's Uncle T, (Cuz's dad) he had the flu. He coughed, felt crappy, threw up alot. For over a week. Then he got really bad migraines. For 4 days they just wouldn't stop.

Spaghetti's Aunt N. got worried, she told him he had to go to the hospital. He needed her help getting to the car. He had problems using his right side. He was speaking gibberish.

He was put in the ER. Everyone was guessing a stroke, or maybe an aneurysm. The did tests and scans...

It's brain cancer.

The migraines, the right side issues, the gibberish. It all makes sense now.

Then we had to see how bad it was. When do we start Kemo, and treatment? What Cancer facility will he stay at?

They did a full body scan to see if the cancer was anywhere else.

He has melanoma in his kidneys and liver. And he's not waking up from the medication to help with the pain.

He should have woken with in hours, instead it took him over a week.

Friday Cuz and her mom went to the Hospital to visit Uncle T. He was awake. Eyes open. Glasses on. He couldn't talk, and they were not aware of how "there" he really was. But for a day they had him. Awake. More then they have had for weeks.

Then yesterday Uncle T. took a turn for the worse. The doctors said there will be no treatment. Melanoma doesn't respond to kemo, and the tumor in his brain is 2 inches around and 1 1/2 inches deep, so they can't reach it.

Right now they are just talking about keeping him comfortable till he passes.

Typing that just blows my mind.

This is the same guy that just talked me through closing my pool a month ago. They same guy we just took a road trip up to Milwaukee Fest to watch Banjo play with Kate & Kacy. The guy who just rides his bike over for a nice ride.

(Uncle T.'s bike him and Aunt N. rode over one nice fall day last year)

The guy that goes to see his kids in Nashville whenever he wants, he gardens, he tinkers in his garage, he is a loving father, grandfather, has a grandchild on the way in April, he has SO much life left and it was just taken away.

I am angry at this cancer. Just like we all are. It hurts my heart SO much for this family. Who is my family too.

I looked to Uncle T. for help. He is SO much like my dad. Losing him makes it so hard for me. I couldn't even tell my dad, I was afraid I would become the blubbering mess I am right now.

I love you Uncle T. I just hope that your pain is minimal until the end. Tell Gramma we all say "Hi" (she just left us due to an aneurysm in February) man this is going to be a jacked up Holiday season.

Love You,

Jack

Dear Banjo and Cuz,
I love you both, and my heart hurts SO much for you both. I can only give you endless hugs, and all my love right now.