A timeline of my crazy week:
Sunday, July 8
My father's partner, Carmen, dies after being ill off and on for years. I didn't know Carmen well, but from what I do know, she was a very nice woman. On top of that, she was only 60 and should have had many more years to spend with her family, which included three grown children, eight grandchildren, and an army of aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins. And my dad.
Monday, July 9 through Friday, July 13
Despite what I thought was careful planning on my part, I have a lapse in child care that causes me to miss at least half of every workday, all week long. I can't enjoy the extra time at home with G because I'm too busy worrying about not being at work and panicking about when I'll be able to get there.
On Tuesday night, the dishwasher stops working. Yes, I know that in a world where orphans starve and mudslides take out villages, this is a minor annoyance, but I hate washing dishes by hand. It's messy, and it adds time and stress to my already-lengthy nightly routine. Grumble, grumble.
On Thursday, I need to be at work in the evening for a special event, and after hours of drama and miscommunication, finally end up asking my mother and stepfather to pick G up and keep her overnight (only her second night away from me in her life to this point) and all day Friday. G takes this with good grace, but when my mother asks if she'd like to stay an extra night, she says "NO."
During this entire week, I am also so skint that I'm eyeing the change jar on top of my refrigerator -- actually a very small brass planter that used to sit on P's desk at our old place -- and wondering how many gallons of gas I can buy with the contents. We're in no danger of going hungry, but everything else is looking grim. I'm getting about three hours of broken sleep a night ... wonder why?
Saturday, July 14
I accompany my father to Carmen's funeral and the reception that follows. It's not only very sad, especially coming less than two weeks after P's memorial service, but a bit surreal because I've suddenly been sucked into my father's other life. I spend hours shaking people's hands and being kissed on the cheek by friendly strangers, and when I get home, I'm exhausted.
P said for years that my life would be easier if he were gone, but he was so wrong. Not only is it not easier, but when the hard stuff happens, I have to live through it all alone. Are you watching this, P? Do you admit now that I was right?