Day 373

A year ago today, I raced across state lines to bring my father Tylenol. When he accepted my offer to drive an hour an a half to bring it to him — an an hour and a half back — I knew he was really sick. He would never have consented to such an inconvenience if wasn’t very ill. I thought my act of kindness would help, that he just might get better. He didn’t. (https://jaegerwrites13.wordpress.com/2020/03/24/mama-day-8/)

I still can’t get past the fact that I never got to say goodbye — not really. I don’t count the facetime monologue. Perhaps it was better than nothing, but I was robbed of a final hug. I was robbed of being able to sit at his beside to let him know that he was loved. And I can’t tell you how angry it makes me when people complain about the stringent rules regarding the pandemic. When parents complain about their kids missing sports or school, when kids complain that they missed their prom or spring break it makes me furious. Their complaints are so shallow. Rules kept me away from my father in his final days. Instead of being able to be with him, I had to sit at home, waiting endlessly for updates from the doctor. I had to watch my father’s decline via a phone screen. At the time, I tried to be understanding. They didn’t want us at the hospital because they were trying to stem the tide, trying to flatten the curve. I got that, but now people are demanding that restaurants and schools open, they want to travel and meet in large groups and public opinion is shifting. People are tired of the pandemic. They want their lives back. Well, I want my father back and that’s never going to happen. I think everyone else can wait a little longer to have their luxuries returned to them. When cases continue to rise in certain areas in conjunction with rolling back restrictions I want to scream. I should have been allowed to be with my father. I should have been allowed to say goodbye, and instead of lessening, my anger continues to swell. People are so fucking selfish, they are complaining about not being able to have parties when they never had to watch a loved one die while being barred from being with them. Dad died a fucking year ago and we were not allowed to have a funeral. Again, at the time, I tried to be understanding. But now in retrospect, I’m pissed. I am so goddamn tired of trying to think of other people, trying to recognize that sometimes personal sacrifice is better for the  group when everyone else cares only about themselves. My father was denied religious services, but I should be respectful of the parent that wants a free babysitter.

I’m finding that I’m not so happy here in Middlesex. On Saturday night, our neighbor had a party outside. I didn’t sleep because the music was so freaking loud. It looked like a group of college kids congregating around a fire pit. Not one of them was wearing a mask. I wanted to call the police so that I could sleep. My spouse wouldn’t let me. She told me I have to suck it up and deal with it. Am I the only fucking person on the planet that can’t sleep when asshole neighbors play their music loud late at night. Today, it was a warm beautiful day so I was homeschooling my son outside. While we were doing school work, my neighbor came out, sat on her deck and proceeded to blast her music. We ended up having to go inside because there was no freaking way I could teach when the music was so loud. Why do people have to be so self absorbed? She was by herself. Why couldn’t she put headphones on? Why do people always feel they are entitled to force their music on other people? My spouse told me to deal with it. I can’t. So I’m leaving. After spring break, my son and I will move out to Long Island for the duration of the school year. My spouse claims it’s me. I can’t get along with people. But I honestly don’t see how I’m in the wrong here. Why does my neighbor have a right to blast her music, but I don’t have a right to homeschool my son in peace? Oh well. That’s life — I guess. Nothing is fair. Life sucks and then you die. I’m happier in New York anyway.

About a month ago, I wrote that I was at the end of my rope. I cry more now than I did when Dad died. I’m angry and cranky all the time. I’m going to explode. It’s only a matter of time. And I’m still walking around in fog. I lost a part of my brain when Dad got sick and I’m beginning to think it’s gone for good.

Since social media does nothing but incite my anger, I’m taking a hiatus from it. I’m tired of watching other people get breaks. Tired of the news. Tired of people complaining about the pandemic when they haven’t lost anything of substance. Mostly, I’m tired of everyone else’s selfish behavior. There’s enough of it in the real world, I don’t need more of it online. Kindness and compassion never got me anywhere. Maybe I should take a stab at being selfish. Maybe then I’d have a change of fortune. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so miserable.