Today is turning out to be one of the absolute strangest days ever. I really don’t know how to wrap my head around everything that’s gone on since yesterday, and I feel like I’m on some sort of really fucked up roller coaster ride.
First things first: Last night, I had a date, and we went to a pre-screening of a foreign indie flick in SF, called “The Edukators.” The movie was awesome by the way, and if you have a chance to go see it, you really, really should. It was full of socio-economic commentary and political standpoints, and it totally made me think. It helped that I went with the most awesome guy. The night was perfect; absolutely perfect. I don’t think I could have had a better time. I haven’t felt so appreciated, or cared about, in… well… ever I guess; wholly and completely accepted for me, liked, and even admired maybe, for how different I am from other people. And there was this incredible magnetism… this need to touch, and be touched by him… but there was an innocence to it, like it didn’t have to go further than just hugging, kissing, and holding hands. There wasn’t that push, that urgency, for more. It felt like we had all the time in the world, and I was happy just being with him. And that is a rare thing for me. So rare, that I don’t think I’ve ever had it happen before. I didn’t get home ‘til midnight, but I didn’t care, I felt so relaxed and happy. I went to sleep that way, and woke up that way too. I woke up late, and was late for work too, but it didn’t matter. It was worth it. I was in such a good mood...
But then I got to work, and heard my voicemail.
My ex husband had called, sounding distraught. But he didn’t say what about, just to call him back ASAP. The first thing that went through my mind was “something’s happened to KG” (for anyone who’s forgotten, KG is the nickname we’ve given my son). So of course, I immediately call him back, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it was rattling my ribs, screwing with my breathing something fierce.
The idea of anything happening to my baby (who isn’t a baby anymore, and stands easily 4’6” despite being only 6 yrs old – that’s just above chest height on me) terrifies me. He is my life, my one real reason for living, literally. If it weren’t for my son, I would never have returned from my absence this year. I would never have sought help. I wouldn’t be here, today, writing this. Someday, I’ll tell him how he saved my life… but he’s a little young yet for such heavy stuff.
So anyway – I was scared when I called my ex, scared to death. I all but stopped breathing when his voice broke as he started talking… until I realized that he wasn’t talking about KG at all. I didn’t get a chance to be relieved however…
Here’s the story as best I know it:
Early this morning, my ex’s girlfriend (we’ll just call her GF for ease of reference), her brother, and her sister, were involved in a head on collision with a big rig, which was driven by a drunken trucker. He basically drove straight over their car, and caused a 7 car pile up.
GF’s brother was killed instantly, but was dismembered so badly that the only way the cops could identify him was by the driver’s license in the back pocket of his jeans. They couldn’t even find all the pieces apparently… god… I get queasy just thinking about that. GF’s sister was critically injured, and died some hours later on the operating table.
GF herself suffered only moderate injuries, and left the hospital against medical advice so she could get in touch with my ex… but she later collapsed and had to be rushed back to the hospital for treatment of a rather vicious head injury.
So my ex is going to be flying out to stay with her tomorrow.
I don’t know GF, or her family. But I’m still shocked and appalled, and equally full of grief and sympathy, as well as a healthy dose of rage.
Things like this really make me stop and think about how fragile life is though; how easily it can be lost… It doesn’t make me covet my life, but it does make me appreciate my loved ones just that much more, and make me try to spend as much time with them as possible. Because, who knows just how long they’ll be here for me to enjoy? They could be wrenched from me tomorrow, or next week… they might be around for decades to come, or they might only have hours left on this earth.
Why waste one minute that could be spent with them? Why worry about petty arguments or material possessions? Do any of those things really matter anyway? I don’t think so. There’s a cliché’ that goes “the best things in life are always free,” and the best things in life, are the relationships we have with the ones we care about. We shouldn’t squander those relationships. We should cherish them; hold onto them with all our might.
I guess its also things like this that make me so protective of my son. The constant reminders that he could be snatched from my life at any moment… you know, my psychiatrist says that my paranoia and anxiety stem from a combination of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and Bipolar Disorder Type 1, but I’m starting to disagree to a degree. I think I’m just suffering from life, from the world around me. How can I NOT be afraid when subways in London are being blown up, when there are gang bangers on the bus with guns in their pockets, when planes skid off landing strips and burst into flames, when loved ones’ loved ones are killed in freak car accidents? How can I NOT be affected by these things? I think maybe I’m not the one with the problem. I think it’s the rest of the world, the people who see all this and DON’T fear for the safety of the people they care about. They’re the ones who are sick. They’re the ones that need psychotherapy. They’re the ones that need medication, because they’re going through life in denial of the dangers around them, hiding in a fantasy world where nothing could possibly go wrong. They’re the delusional ones, not me.
Definitely not me.
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