I don't know how, but I did.
4 weeks. 28 days. I think I will hate Thursdays for the rest of my life.
All day some part of my brain has been screaming FOUR WEEKS AGO.
But I kept pushing it away because little Frankie has been here since Wednesday evening.
I told someone today that I am still not entirely sure it happened. Maybe four weeks ago I had a break with reality. Maybe it was five minutes ago. Maybe Frank is fine and I am locked up somewhere.
This can't be my life. People are too stupid. People are saying the most astonishing things to me. I go through this a little with the cancer. People find out I have cancer and they tell me about theirs or their spouse/sibling/wife's nephew's stepmother. And now people try to tell me about someone in their life struggling with addiction. Or someone they lost to addiction.
Most of them mean it as a comfort. And it is.
But some want some kind of answer and I want to scream "If I had an answer, my kid wouldn't be DEAD!"
But the most ridiculous one yet was someone who proudly told me that they had not spoken to their addicted loved one in years. What? I understand that you can't enable. But you don't withhold your love, your caring, your very presence. If there is one clear lesson to be learned from Frank and I, it's that you always make sure your children know you love them. No matter what the circumstances. You never know. You could be in my shoes at any minute, for any reason. I don't understand how this person didn't see my horror. How it didn't freeze them in their tracks.
So now I work my way through until the next Thursday. Or not. Maybe I am sitting in a Geri chair waiting for more meds mashed up in applesauce.