Last night The Mer and I were late guests at a memorial service for a loved one.
I didn't know the man personally, have any sort of relationship with him to speak of...
yet I went, broken foot stuffed into my Max Azria's, the only skirt I had to fit being one of near floor length, thank goodness for the black Banana Republic layering turtle necks I invested in while working the mall last Christmas...
And there was my boy, little blue short-sleeved oxford, navy argyle vest and tan corduroys...he was darling, so darling, the pain in my foot made us late, kept me from taking pictures, I can't think straight. This is the foot that took all the weight from the pain in my back when I walked. I don't get the luxury of pain killers today.
So we went to the memorial, then tried to go out to dinner with dear friends of the man en memoriam. Friends, people I owe money for work done to my home. Money I have owed for three months now, and they wanted to buy Mer's and my dinner...because they are that way.
These are people in the process of losing their home because of people like me, and it makes me sick. Sick that I am so self-absorbed in my Max Azria's, sick that I am unable to take care of my child properly. Sick I was more functional ON pain killers than OFF.
The memorial, which was sacred, was an honor to be invited to. I am still so far from being THERE. I stumble through a bible like I'd never picked one up before.
Well I HAVE, at least FIVE times.
There was a man I knew once, named Andy.
Andy accepted EVERYONE, honored ALL paths as sacred and I thought Andy was as close to Christ-like as any person I'd ever met before in my life. I knew/know Andy has a purpose on this earth, his purpose is to touch lives, change lives by his very presence.
I used to read his blog all the time, but it became so painful watching someone I knew achieve their dreams, their goals, their passions. So I stopped. As long as every day is a battle just trying to keep the utilities on, there is no room for creative flow. Ask any single mother she'll tell you the same. We're tired, we don't get a break, we don't want our children thrown away into state-sanctioned daycare...we just want someone safe to spend time with them OTHER than us.
I apologize, my foot hurts like hell and nothing, especially this post...makes sense.
What I know is Mer was pretty happy with the potting soil from the dollar store, and that beats a wii game any day.
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