Oh, hell

You could consider today a multi-layered cake… of crap. Maybe even a messy mille-feuille.

Today marks several occasions, all closely nestled around my heart.

For starters, my darling, beloved, sweet Henry was born, and died, two weeks ago today. It also would have been my father’s 67th birthday today, had he not died suddenly and tragically of a heart attack in the summer eight years ago (side note, his funeral was on my birthday).

These two events alone cloud my heart  in sadness, and would have me spend the day in a quiet sadness. They would be the custard and cream of my mille-feuille. The flaky pastry of this sweet dessert (of crap, may I remind you) is that my poor 93-year-old grandmother, who has severe osteoporosis and constant aches and pains, took a fall yesterday and had to be rushed to emergency at the Jewish General Hospital (just down the street from Sainte-Justine Hospital, where I suspect my Henry still lies, because we have yet to hear anything about coming to pick up his ashes). I rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital, and that first whiff of hospital smell didn’t do me any good. Even my wounds from delivering Henry haven’t completely healed, and here I was surrounded again by the same equipment that was used on me when I was saying goodbye to my son.

The sweet top-layer of this mille-feuille of crap, is my poor mom. She has been my buffer, my warrior, my caretaker since Henry died, and now, she is over-stretched and having to take time off work to take care of my grandmother while she’s stuck in the emergency room where the doctors found a broken collar bone, and possibly more fractures on her hip. Not to mention it’s her departed husband’s birthday today.

My mom wouldn’t be alone in taking care of her mother, but one sibling lives in Europe (and would otherwise be fighting right by her side) and another brother is at the other end of the country, and is currently grieving the loss of his father-in-law. There is another son just outside Montreal, but things are sensitive between him and the rest of the family at the moment (as so many of you may understand!). So essentially, my mom is doing this alone.

And the last sweet part of this pitiful dessert, the swirly chocolate part on the sugary topping, is my poor step-son. His teacher called me yesterday to say that he’s not doing so well this week. He seems sad, and not very interested in school.

 

As horrible as this is, it gives me some relief because what I have seen at home is a happy, normal kid – which worried me, because he also suffered a great loss, and wasn’t showing any ill-effects of losing his brother.

Between the madness of rushing my grandmother to hospital, Tyler was able to attend to his son, and bring him to his regularly scheduled art therapy session, where they were able to talk about how my step-son was feeling.

Nobody is alright! It’s crazy. Someone please tell me a joke or something.

 

Happy day that sucks, everyone.

Love,

Mel

 

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